


Slow Dancing in the Big City

by DrakkHammer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Confusion, First Time, Friendship, Loneliness, M/M, Prompts 35 and 25, Romance, Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange, Virgin Fíli, What the hell am I thinking?, rentboy Kili
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1 is to fill Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange Prompt 35: Met while buying condoms at the corner store.</p><p>Chapter 2 and the rest of the chapters are to fill Prompt 25:  I’m sick of everyone making fun of me for still being a virgin so I called an escort agency, but you look so exhausted so perhaps we could just talk instead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seasons to Cycles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/gifts).



 

 

35\. Met while buying condoms at the corner store.

**Seasons to Cycles**

_As hard as it seems_  
_All that we need_  
_Is too close to be seen_

 

London was big.

London was fucking huge.

Fili had thought Auckland was a big city, but he felt utterly lost in London. He was more than just a new resident – he was an invisible one. His new job was aces and his flat was better than what he had in Auckland, with a view and all, but here he was nobody. It wasn’t like he was exactly somebody back home, but at least a few people knew him.

London was also rude.

Well, not horribly so, but he was used to Auckland manners and the laidback Kiwi attitude. Here people were always in a rush and the annoying young people the locals called “chavs” seemed to dominate space on far too many of the tube cars. They also tended to congregate on corners and try to one-up one another on their level of noise and rudeness.

Philip L. O'Riordan was a small mote of dust on a huge cogwheel and he was very much feeling it at the moment. He hadn’t had a decent conversation with anyone in the month that he had lived here. Aside from calls home, he talked to no one to the point that he thought he might get a cat so that he would at least have someone to talk at. The cat wouldn’t listen, any more than any of his co-workers did, but at least it would be company when the days seemed too long and time dragged like the mud of the Thames.

When the loneliness became too overwhelming, he downloaded Tinder and then because there was no one to know, he also downloaded Grindr.

It took him a while to get both apps setup and to figure them out. He spent several hours on Tinder carefully making out a profile and posting it and then looking through the matches. Some of the women were pretty, very pretty, but he wondered how they would act when they found he had no experience. He honestly didn’t think his ego was up to finding out.

He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down with Grindr. It was less personal and definitely less romantic. Men were more direct, sometimes shockingly so. The images were hypnotic, interesting him far more than the ones on Tinder. He created a profile for himself, but deleted it before posting. Then he felt stupid. He sprawled in the chair; mentally he berated himself for wanting something and being too afraid to reach out. It wasn’t like he had to respond to anyone. He could just test the water by reading.

Couldn’t he?

Finally he created a profile, took a selfie and looked at it critically. He wasn’t all that bad looking. Medium blond hair that fought desperately to curl, blue eyes and good teeth in a mouth punctuated by dimples. Girls seemed to like those, but they weren’t enough to make them want to fall into bed. The men he hadn’t dared respond to. Auckland was a small town for all its size. He wasn’t ready to fail where people actually knew him.

He snorted derisively at his own cowardliness and posted his profile, hoping for the best. Feeling restless, he got himself another beer and continued to flip through the profiles. He finished it and found that he wasn’t able to sit still. He was horny and tired of dating his right hand. Grabbing his jacket, he headed out the door to walk it off.

It was Friday and nearing dinnertime. He passed people who were all going someplace, many of them with someone. He jammed his hand in his pockets feeling even lonelier. When he passed a small grocery he stopped in, thinking he might pick up some milk. Instead he found himself in front of a bewildering array of condoms. This little store seemed to make them a sideline.

He had no idea what to buy, or even if he would need any. He certainly wouldn’t if he never got up the balls to reply to a contact. He felt bewildered on several levels. Stepping back to get a broader view of the variety, he slammed directly into someone. He spun around, already bubbling forth apologies.

“I’m so sorry. It was entirely my fault. I’m such an egg, not looking behind before I stepped back. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

The man he’d hit, held up both hands, and smiled. “I’m fine, really. No damage, mate.”

Fili looked up into the biggest brownest eyes he thought he’d ever seen. The centers were gold, and they were shaded by heavy brows that amazingly were not pulled down into a frown.

Fili gulped and stopped talking. He was looking up at the handsomest man he thought he’d ever seen. He took in the cascade of dark curly hair that fell to the man’s collar, stray ringlets draped fetchingly over his cheek. He was wearing a black leather jacket covering a red T-shirt. Tight black jeans and boots completed the vision in front of him. He gulped again, trying desperately to think of something to say so that he didn’t just stand there gasping for air like a bloody fish.

The tall brunet smiled and whatever remark Fili had been trying to formulate evaporated. “You must not be from around here,” he said in a velvet baritone. “Most blokes would have yelled at me for getting in their way.”

“I…uh…backed into you, so it could hardly be your fault.” Fili felt as if he was babbling, but the brunet only smiled wider.

He nodded toward the display of condoms. “Having trouble deciding?” He chuckled and added, “I don’t blame you. All a fella needs is one in his size; small, medium, or large. The rest is just overkill. I think the idea is to confuse us into buying the one with the package that has the most flash and is the most expensive.”

He had an accent that Fili couldn’t place, but he knew he could listen to him talk all day, even if he was only reading the phone book.

Bravely he asked, “Do you have any suggestions?”

The brunet smiled and asked what type he preferred. Now Fili was blushing furiously. How on earth could he say he had absolutely no experience with any condom, let alone having any preference?

His silence told the stranger all he needed to know. Not every man had a working knowledge of prophylactics, at least as far as knowing what to choose from a veritable candy store of choices. He quickly scanned the rows and then reached out and chose a box of Lifestyle Skyn Selections.

He held it out to Fili as if he was giving a gift. “I think you’ll like these. There’s no latex and this gives you a choice of different kinds so you can see what you like.”

Fili took the box thinking, _That’s it – I’m gonna die of embarrassment now._

“Thanks,” he managed to say in return. “I…uh…appreciate it.”

The brunet smiled again. _For the love of God would he please stop doing that!_

“I have to get some for meself. I’m running low.” He scooped up a large box too quickly for Fili to read the name.

He looked up at Fili and paused. “Nervous about your date tonight?”

The blond felt like he’d been trapped and his face showed it. “Uh, no date. Just thought I should have some of these.”

“Oh, just in case.” The brunet’s voice was quiet and his brows pulled down a bit as if he was thinking. “With that accent it sounds as if you are new here.”

“Yeah,” Fili laughed nervously. “I’m from New Zealand. I’ve been here a month, but I’ve been so busy setting things up I haven’t gotten around much.”

The brunet nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve come a long way. Well, it’s harder to meet someone when you’re new and if you don’t mind me saying, it doesn’t look like you’re much of a player, so that makes it even tougher.”

“It shows, huh?” The damned blush was back, he just knew it.

“Well, not really. If we weren’t sort of talking about it I wouldn’t have noticed.” The gentle smile was back, setting Fili’s nerves to tingling.

Fili found himself blurting out, “Have you ever used Tinder?”

The brunet tensed for a moment and then let his breath out with a small sigh. “No. I’m actually more of a Grindr bloke.” He looked as if he was waiting for Fili to say something rude.

Fili’s eyes dropped and he muttered. “I think I am, too.”

“You think?” He was puzzled. “You don’t know?”

Flushing with embarrassment, Fili shook his head. “I…well, I haven’t…well…ever.”

“It’s not all that unusual when you’re not sure,” the brunet said gently.

“Really?” The blond looked hopeful.

“Yeah, really. You don’t know what you want and what with society yammering all the time about what a bloke should be doing, it’s easier to just avoid the whole thing. I’ve been there myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Fili couldn’t think of anything more appropriate to say.

“It’s okay, it’s just a part of life. Once you get past it then things even out.”

“I downloaded both Tinder and Grindr, but I’m not sure about the responses I’m getting on either of them.”

The brunet started to turn and then stopped. “You know, it’s none of me business, but I’m not sure that those are the best idea. They aren’t the best place for someone trying to figure things out. You have no control over who you’ll meet. It might be a nice guy, or girl, or someone you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.”

“Some of the profiles I read weren’t so good,” Fili admitted.

“Yeah, you need to have a partner who has been screened for disease and personality. I’d advise an escort service to start – if you can afford it. You don’t have to be shy. They’ve heard it all. When you call tell them the truth and they will choose the best person for you. Let them know what type you’re attracted to and then relax.”

“Relax?” The word came out at a higher pitch than he’d intended.

“Yeah, relax. Sure you’re paying for the service, but you’re paying for the service here too. He or she will do whatever you want and make no demands on you. If you just want to talk, or go around the world, either will be fine,” he said reassuringly.

“Around the world?”

“Google it.” The wink made him pretty sure he didn’t want to do that – ever.

Fili felt himself blushing furiously and ducked his head.

The brunet looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you’re payin’ the ferryman, so it’s your ride. You can experiment and most people you get will be real happy to help you do that.”

“Who should I call? Which one?” Fili was confused and hoping for a recommendation.

It was the brunet’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Uh, any of the high rated ones is fine. I don’t know that one is better than another. If you call and don’t like the way the receptionist sounds, try another one. It’s legal here, so you don’t have to settle for anything dodgy.”

“Oh, okay,” Fili said hesitantly. “I guess you’ve tried this?”

“No. Yeah. Well, sort of.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry but I have to go. I have an appointment that I have to keep. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

With that he was gone, almost bolting from the aisle.

Fili stood watching as he left. It didn’t occur to him until the brunet was out of sight that he hadn’t even gotten his phone number, or his name.

Heaving a sigh and feeling more alone than ever, he went over, picked up a jug of milk and headed for the checkout. It was going to be another long lonesome night in London Town.


	2. The Devil is a Lonely Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange prompt 25: I’m sick of everyone making fun of me for still being a virgin so I called an escort agency, but you look so exhausted so perhaps we could just talk instead?
> 
> I decided the two prompts went together and then a story happened. I'm not sure how long it will be but there will be a few more chapters as these blokes figure things out.
> 
> The title is from the song [**The Devil is a Lonely Night**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bxvg-mQ0RM) by The Pierces

 

**The Devil is a Lonely Night**

_Baby I know you say that the devil is a lonely night_  
_I can't help myself; I feel the pull and dial your number_  
_Two thousand hearts are breaking, breaking  
_ _But you can always take me to the light_

 

When one has condoms one is expected to use them. Fili sat there looking at the box of Skyns that the brunet had suggested he buy. Now that he had them, they were like a hand in the middle of his back, urging him forward off a cliff that frankly scared the shit out of him.

One of the few interactions he’d had with his new coworkers had been when he’d unexpectedly and embarrassingly been outed as a virgin. He’d made the mistake of asking where a good place was to meet women and had been the instant sport of two arseholes from another department. For fuck’s sake, all he wanted to know was if there was a club, or a bar, but apparently here if you had any experience at all you didn’t have to ask stupid questions. His instant blush had told them they had scored a direct hit and by the end of the day the entire office knew about him. He supposed there had to be other twenty-five-year-old virgins in the city, but apparently none of them worked for M&C Saatchi.

Fili sat there pondering the level of his embarrassment. He flicked on Tinder and checked his account. There were half a dozen responses to his profile. Since he hadn’t been on it since he put up the profile several of them got nasty when they didn’t receive an immediate response. One asked how big his dick was and one wanted to know how much money he made. Wincing, he closed the app and opened Grindr.

Here the responses were a bit the same, only 3 of them wanted to know how big his dick was and if he would send them photos of it. Worse, they’d sent selfies of their own dicks, apparently thinking this was a great pickup line. One told him in explicit terms what he wanted to do to Fili and one wanted to know if he was into anything not so vanilla. Apparently he would look good tied down with “a dick shoved in both ends.”

He almost threw the phone across the room.

Resisting the urge, he set the phone down as gently as he could, went into the kitchen and got a beer. It looked like it was going to be another long lonely Saturday night. He wasn’t even up for going out. All he wanted to do was sit in his flat and cuddle his crushed expectations.

He sat down at his laptop and flipped it on. He checked out the news, but gave up quickly as nothing good seemed to be going on anywhere. He browsed Reddit for a few minutes, spending just enough time in the BrosLikeUs forum to get thoroughly aroused.

He stood up, adjusted himself, and sat back down, but his erection refused to go away. He considered having a wank, but that just felt depressing. His mirror told him he wasn’t a bad looking bloke and yet he seemed destined to be married to his right hand for eternity.

He got up and got another beer. Great, let’s just sit home and get drunk thinking about how lonely he was. Yeah, let’s write that in a letter home to his mum and dad. Having a wonderful time in London. I’m horny as fuck and am too goddamn shy to meet anyone. Oh and by the way, I’m probably gay…

He finished the beer, feeling a little buzzed. Sitting back down at the computer he pulled up the memory of the brunet at the store. Along with jerk-off material he also conjured up his advice to call an escort service. At the thought, his cock hardened in a “yes” vote.

Why the fuck not? It was legal. He had the money. But did he have the balls?

After another beer, he decided that he did.

The first place he called was booked for the night, so sorry. So was the second. It had taken both of his balls to get up the nerve to tell the sad story of virginity to the first two places. He didn’t think he was up to calling the third. Fuck it – it would just be him, beer and his right hand. He would die a virgin, that was all there was to it.

He had eaten dinner and was doing dishes when the phone rang. It was the second place calling back. They had found someone, the perfect someone apparently, who had a cancellation at the last minute. He would be there in an hour.

And…oh by the way, there would be a surcharge of an extra fifty pounds for the short notice, give it directly to Randy when he arrived. Services were to be paid for even before introductions, apparently, business being business and all.

He disconnected and sat down at the table because standing up wasn’t an option.

Randy?

Was that his real name?

Probably not. It was most likely chosen to make him sound horny and ready for anything. Fili chuckled. It was a stupid name. This was a stupid thing to do. He almost called back, but his dick chimed in with its own vote and he decided that he would only be out money that, for once in his life, he could afford. At least he wouldn’t be a virgin any more.

Randy (what the fuck was up with that name?) wouldn’t be arriving until eight, so he had fifty five minutes to go down to the cash point, pick up the requisite amount of money (Jesus, getting laid was expensive!) and get back with time left over to take a shower, vomit and try to settle down.

As he dried off (after vomiting) he put on Chopin to try to relax. It didn’t really work, but at least it gave him something other than the ticking of the clock to concentrate on.

At three minutes after eight the doorbell rang. He leaped across the room like a goosed gazelle, fumbled with the lock and opened it…

To stand frozen in shock.

The brunet from the condom aisle was standing there staring back at him with a mirror image of surprise on his handsome face.

“You…you’re Randy?”

The brunet shook off the surprise and heavy dark brows pulled down. “Yeah, I’m Randy. You gonna let me in, or what?”

“Yes, of course.” Fili stepped sideways and motioned for him to come in.

He shut the door and held out his hand to take Randy’s jacket. For the first time he noticed that the man was carrying a gym bag and he took that as well. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised that the guy from the store is a rent boy?” Randy’s tone was nothing like his voice yesterday. There was recrimination in it and an edge as he waited to be judged.

“No—well, yes. I mean I was sorry I didn’t try to get your number and now here you are.” Fili hung his jacket up and turned around to face Randy.

“That’ll be one hundred fifty quid for the hour plus fifty for it being short notice. If you decide you want another hour will be an extra hundred.” His voice was flat as he quoted his rates. It was strictly business.

Nervously Fili pulled out his wallet and counted out three hundred pounds. He handed it to Randy who looked at it with a bit of surprise before he tucked it into his pocket.

“You sure you want to pay for the extra hour upfront?”

Fili nodded. “I’m sure. I don’t want to rush things.”

Randy’s face lightened up a little. “It’s your ride, but I don’t like to rush either.”

He looked around at the photos and paintings on the walls. “Is this your work?”

Fili nodded. “I’m working for a firm now rather than freelancing. I’m a photographer and an artist.”

The brunet nodded then walked over and stood in front of a black and white male figure study that was lit perfectly so that the shadows emphasized form and grace. “You’re good.”

“The company thought so, they hired me all the way from New Zealand. I’m still getting used to the climate and the culture here in London.”

Randy laughed. “Well, if you do, then let me know how you did it. I’ve been trying for five years and I’m still figuring it out.”

“I can’t place your accent; where are you originally from?” Fili asked.

“Clondalkin. It’s about ten kilometers south of Dublin. Our claim to fame is that we have two prisons – no waiting.”

Fili laughed. “Well I guess they have to be somewhere.”

Randy grinned. “I used to think it was a shit hole, but the longer I’m in London the more I miss it.”

“Do you ever go back home?”

“No, there’s nothing to go back to. Mam died before I moved and da was long gone. The only brother I have is a guest at one of the prisons and will be for a long while.”

“There’s one in every family,” Fili said with a shrug. “I have an uncle who can’t seem to stay out for more than a year or two. At least you’re making an honest living.”

Randy started to laugh, but it never reached his eyes. “At least its legal. I wanted to be an actor, but after me mam died I had to drop out. I was taking classes at Gaiety; it’s an acting school in Dublin. I wasn’t half bad either, but like everyone else they needed the brass upfront, so I had to move along.”

“Maybe you can take classes here, if you’re not too busy,” Fili suggested. He hated to see the taller man look sad.

“I’ve taken a few, tried modeling too, but there’s damn little call for skinny hairy blokes these days…if there ever was.”

He was pensive for a moment and Fili had no idea what to say. Suddenly Randy walked over and picked up the bag he’d brought with him.

“Would it be possible for me to use your shower? It won’t come off your time. I didn’t have time to clean up before coming over and I’m freezing.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll put on some tea, or would you prefer coffee?” Fili was so nervous he would probably have agreed if Randy had asked to demolish a wall.

“Coffee would be great, with caffeine please.” Randy picked up his bag and looked expectantly at Fili, who hurried to show him where the loo was. He smiled in appreciation as he went in and closed the door. The Kiwi felt his heart give a little flip and he tried to shake it off. No getting romantic with the hired help, he counseled himself.

The coffee was brewed and Fili had set out a nice plate of biscuits and little cakes. He’d splurged on them in one of his down moods and then talked himself out of eating them. They made a homey display on the table. He hoped they didn’t make him look too idiotic and desperate.

Randy came out of the loo wearing the black jeans and a white T-shirt. He was barefoot and for some reason Fili found that to be incredibly sexy. His hair was in dark tangles that twisted around his face as they fought to curl. He hadn’t shaved and the dark scruff made him look even more attractive.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted me to shave,” he said eyeing the plate hungrily.

“No, it’s fine,” Fili replied quickly. “I mean, I think you look fine. Here, have some biscuits.”

The brunet paused and nodded toward the stereo. “What are you listening to?”

“Chopin,” Fili said quickly, “I can change it if you don’t like it.”

“It’s fine, leave it. I don’t listen to enough music these days.”

 “Me either,” Fili agreed. “I love this piece, it’s _Nocturne in E Minor_.”

Randy nodded. “I thought it must be Chopin. I have some Mozart. I need to broaden what passes for my collection.”

Fili poured the coffee and watched as the brunet scooped up several biscuits, eating them quickly. Fili watched the sweets vanish. “I could fix you a sandwich. I bought some baked ham and a pound of Dubliner cheese yesterday. It’s too much, but I love it. You’d be doing me a favor by helping me eat it.”

The brunet looked up and suddenly Fili could see that he was tired. Something had happened between the time he’d seen him yesterday and when he’d shown up at the door. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Randy said around a mouthful of biscuit.

“No trouble. It’s my pleasure,” he reassured the brunet as he disappeared into the kitchen.

He returned minutes later with a sandwich thick with sliced ham and cheese. He carried a big glass of milk as well as a mustard pot and a mayonnaise jar. “I didn’t know which you’d prefer, so I brought both.”

Randy’s eyes lit up at the feast and he picked up the mustard jar. “Spiced honey mustard, how’d you know I love this stuff?”

“I didn’t, it’s just my favorite too.” He basked in the brunet’s smile and watched happily as mustard was slathered on and a huge bite of the sandwich vanished. The rest followed quickly, along with the milk.

“I’m sorry to be such a pig,” Randy said as he set the empty milk glass down. “I didn’t get a chance to eat today. It was stupid of me, but I was running late.”

“You were hardly a pig. I’m enjoying your company, so if there’s anything else you’d like to do off the clock, feel free.”

The brunet laughed. “You’re not the typical customer, that’s for sure.” He reached in his pocket and peeled off a fifty pound note and held it out to Fili.

The Kiwi looked at it in surprise and made no move to take it. “What are you doing, that’s your money?”

Randy shrugged and put the bill on the table. “It’s a refund for all the bother I’ve been. I’m not paid to take showers and eat your food. It’s only fair that you get a discount.”

Fili reached out and pushed the money back toward him. “I might be wrong, but something tells me that you need this a lot more than I do. And while I’m at it I’ll tell you that you look exhausted. I don’t know what’s going on in your life and it’s none of my business, but as you said, it’s my ride and my rules.”

Randy dragged his damp hair back out of his eyes. He looked at Fili with his heavy brows pulled low, giving him an angry glare. “Look, you don’t have to be so bloody nice just because you think we bonded over condoms yesterday.”

Fili glared back. “You were decent to me yesterday and I’m being decent to you today.”

The heavy look lightened. “Yeah, you are and I’m being a dick. It’s been a shitty day.”

“Want to talk about it?” Fili asked softly.

“Naw, it’s nothing you’d be interested in. It’ll pass. Besides I’m here to work.” Randy looked at Fili expectantly, but the Kiwi leaned back in the chair.

“You’d be surprised what interests me. Maybe I can help.”

The brunet laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Not with this you can’t.”

“Try me.”

Randy took another sip of coffee, then put the cup down. “I’d kill for a beer.”

Fili laughed. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’ll be right back.”

He brought them both a beer and sat quietly while the brunet opened it and took a long swallow.

“I got kicked out of me flat today.” He didn’t look up, staring instead at the label on the bottle as he ripped a strip off with his thumbnail. “Fucking flatmate was pocketing the rent I was giving him instead of paying the landlord. He took a flyer and now the bastard’s locked all me stuff up until I pay him. Not that I blame him, but I can’t raise that kinda brass.”

Fili wanted to offer sympathy and help, but he had no idea what to do, so he simply replied, “That’s awful. Do you think you can find him? Your flatmate, I mean.”

Randy shook his head, sending his curls into his eyes. He scraped them back and looked at Fili, his eyes nearly black with anger. “The prick quit his job and he’s gone, shot through. Hell, he could be anywhere by now, he had enough of me money.”

“So you spent the day trying to find him and get back into your flat.”

“Yeah. I gave the landlord what I made last night and he let me get some clean clothes and personal shit, but that’s all.” Another long pull on the beer, before setting the bottle back down. “And now you know me shitty story. Rentboy fucks up, read it in the Daily Mail.”

Fili’s lips firmed. “How much do you owe?”

“Two thousand quid.” The brunet shorted derisively. “Even if I peddled me skinny ass in the middle of Soho I couldn’t make that kind of money.”

He finished the beer and sighed. “Thanks for listening, but it’s not your problem. You paid me and it’s time for me to earn it.”

He stood up and walked over to Fili. He held out his hand and the Kiwi stood up. But he didn’t come into the brunet’s arms as he expected. Instead he put his hand on Randy’s shoulder and squeezed.

“We’ll talk about that again after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.” He reached up and tucked a strand of curls behind the brunet’s ear. “Right now you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Randy said almost in a whisper. “You’re being way too kind.”

Fili looked up at him and smiled. “Sometimes we all need a little kindness, tonight it’s your turn. How about if we go to bed and cuddle until we fall asleep?”

To his delight the brunet smiled and this time it warmed his eyes as well. “I’d like that very much.”

Fili led the way to his bedroom. It was tidy with a queen-size bed sporting a comforter in a gold, white, and black modern design. There were extra pillows in matching colored cases and the effect was one of masculine comfort. To be honest it was the only thing that bone-weary Randy was interested in at the moment. He noted there was art on the walls, but it held far less interest than the big soft bed.

The blond gestured to the right. “The loo’s that way.” The brunet nodded and vanished through it, closing the door behind him.

Fili quickly stripped, leaving his boxer-briefs on. They weren’t the sexiest things in the world, but at least they were burgundy and not white. He pulled the comforter back and slid between the covers, arranging the pillows to prop himself up.

Randy came out moments later, clothing carefully folded. He was wearing black briefs. Rather skimpy black briefs. Of course he was, what else would a professional escort wear? Fili almost giggled at the stereotype of the image it made.

He patted the bed, trying to be nonchalant. “Come on in, you still look chilly.”

“I am. I guess I got chilled to the bone. I didn’t have anywhere to go after I gave the landlord all me cash.” He slid in and pulled the blankets up. “I guess I shouldn’t hold it against him that me flatmate robbed us both.”

”It’s not either of your fault, but you’re the one paying for it,” Fili replied sympathetically.

“You’re a good bloke,” the brunet said quietly. “I mean that. I don’t know anyone who would hire someone like me, pay them and then feed them and tuck them into bed not expecting them to…you know…earn their brass. People here want to get their money’s worth and they’re willing to take it outta your hide if they have to.”

Fili made a sad little face. “I wasn’t raised like that. I wanted company more than sex anyway.”

“You don’t like sex?”

“I love sex, or I’m sure I will, but I’m enjoying having you here to talk with so, I guess I like companionship too.” Fili felt a little embarrassed and maybe a little un-masculine. Men were supposed to think with their dick first…weren’t they?

Randy looked puzzled and then smiled. “You’re too nice to live in London. They’ll eat you alive. But I’m glad I met you.”

Fili laughed. “I’m glad I met you too and I’ll be careful to stay away from their fangs.” He sobered. “You know I’m here in bed with you and I don’t even know your name. I’m pretty sure it’s not Randy.”

The brunet smiled a little. “No it’s not. I don’t give me real name to customers, but I guess tonight you’re more like a friend.”

He sat up and held his hand out. “I’m Turlough Kildare, but what few friends I have call me Kili.”

The blond took his hand and shook it. “You aren’t going to believe this, but I’m called Fili, short for Philip O'Riordan.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Both brows shot up under his curls. “There is just no fucking way.”

“Yeah, there is. The universe plays strange tricks sometimes.” Fili knew he was blushing again.

Kili scratched his head, his puzzled look darkening his eyes almost to black. “This has been one weird-ass day."

He lay back on the bed and stretched his arm out. “Well, Fili, I’m really pleased to meet you. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves and shaken hands, come on over here for a cuddle, because I’m fading fast.”

Fili slide across the bed and into Kili’s arms. He nestled into the hollow, finding that his head fit perfectly on the brunet’s shoulder. Kili slide both arms around him and pressed a soft kiss above his ear. The sensation sent ripples of pleasure through Fili’s body, making him stiffen in response. He ignored it, telling his body there would be time for that later. Right now it was time to have the sweetest dreams ever.

 


	3. When The Stars Go Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance begins...
> 
>  
> 
> The title is from the song "When the Stars Go Blue" by Tim McGraw
> 
>  
> 
> A HUGE thank you to Kelly/Ceallaig my marvelous beta reader!

                                                               

 

 

**When The Stars Go Blue**

_Laughing with your pretty mouth_  
_Laughing with your broken eyes_  
_Laughing with your lover's tongue  
_ _In a lullaby_

 

Kili woke first and lay cuddled in the warmth of the blankets and the softness of the mattress. He didn’t want to be awake and have to think about being homeless. He wanted to remain safely asleep where the bad things couldn’t get him and there was no hunger or cold. But he had to pee and there was no way to ignore his bladder.

When he came back from the bathroom he saw that Fili was awake watching him. The look on the blond’s face stopped him in his tracks. He’d had others who thought he was good looking, but he’d never seen anyone with this level of adoration. It gave him the urge to look over his shoulder and see if there was someone standing behind him.

Fili smiled, his dimples digging deep and adorable. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

Kili came over to the bed and slid beneath the covers. “Like the dead. Thank you for being so understanding.”

The Kiwi’s smile clouded a little. “Anyone could see that you were exhausted.”

“Yeah, anyone might have seen it, but damn few would have cared.” Kili turned over and propped his head up on his hand. Reaching out, he took Fili’s hand and squeezed it. “And I don’t think I’ve ever run into anyone who wouldn’t expect their money’s worth anyway.”

“But that’s idiotic,” Fili protested.

“Whatever. This isn’t a job where people care about you. I perform a service and I’m paid to do just that, no matter what.” Kili’s voice was brittle, his eyes far away.

“But how can you make love to someone and not care about them?” The idea was just alien to Fili.

Kili’s snapped his attention to the blond. “You really don’t get it, do you? I don’t go to see clients to “make love.” I go to get them off in whatever way they choose. It’s not about love – it’s about lust. Its just sex, nothing more.”

“Oh…” Fili’s voice was almost a whisper. His eyes widened and then clouded with sadness. “I guess I’m hopelessly naïve, or maybe just stupid.”

Kili reached out and cupped Fili’s face in the palm of his hand. “Definitely naïve, but not stupid. I think you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

The Irishman heaved a sigh and a tiny smile touched the corner of his lips. “When I met you in the store I was thinking that it would be nice to be able to ask you out, but men like me don’t ask men like you to go on dates.”

“Why not?”

Kili lowered one eyebrow. “Why do you think, you git? Wouldn’t my job make a nice dinnertime conversation?”

“Oh, yeah I guess not.” Fili admitted wincing a little.

“You can imagine my surprise when you opened the door last night.” Kili’s dark look lightened and he grinned. “I felt like I hit the jackpot and I really did.”

The smile was returned. “I did too. I was so glad I called. I still am. I’d like you to kiss me now.”

Kili blinked at the sudden transition and hesitated. One of the things he stated in his list of things he would and wouldn’t do was kissing. He’d put “No” next to the question. Kisses were reserved for someone he cared about. He looked at Fili, blue eyes full of trust and then slowly leaned over for that kiss.

It was was slow and sweet and very chaste. It was obvious that Fili hadn’t had a lot of practice, but he was a fast learner. After the first press of Kili’s lips against his, he relaxed a little. His lips parted at the first flick of brunet’s tongue and he welcomed the intrusion. It wasn’t the first French kiss he’d ever had, but it was certainly the best.

Kili’s tongue moved slowly and sensuously, sliding over Fili’s and then pulling back to tease before descending again. Spurred to action, the blond moved his own to meet it, reveling in the slickness and the taste that was not his own. He wasn’t sure how to breathe as the kiss deepened and ended up needing to break away to suck in great lungfulls of air, while Kili turned his attention to the length of Fili’s neck.

His breath hitched as he discovered that his neck was also an erogenous zone, the sensations of nips and licks going straight to his dick. Kili was an expert at judging his clients and he knew when to move in and when to pull back. He smiled inwardly as his attentions reduced Fili to a quivering mess who was only able to sob for breath. For the first time since he’d started turning tricks he truly wanted to please a client. This was going to be fun.

He threw the blanket back and moved down to suck a tiny bruise where it wouldn’t show. It would be a private souvenir of their encounter. Kili’s hands slid over Fili’s chest, enjoying the feel of his tightly curled chest hair. Few of his clients were handsome and fewer still even approached Fili’s level of male beauty. Kili could feel himself turning on and relaxed, letting himself enjoy the encounter.

The Irishman nuzzled over the mat of hair to one of the delicate pink nipples that peeked through. The tip of his tongue caught the bud in the center, causing it to harden. He flicked it again and Fili’s breath shuddered as he discovered that his nipples very much liked the attention they were getting. Sucking was even better, with the blond arching upward in encouragement.

With infinite slowness that threatened to drive Fili insane, Kili worked his way over to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment. He licked and flicked and sucked and nibbled just the slightest, letting his teeth scrape gently, sending shock after shock directly to Fili’s groin. He twisted his fingers in the Irishman’s dark curls, holding him there for more sweet torture. His dick felt like it would burst if he didn’t get to come soon.

Kili felt the urgency and backed off, sliding back up to dot the blond’s face with tiny kisses that worked their way to his lips. He took the lower one between his teeth and nipped it gently, tugging on it and then sucking a bit before coming back for another tour of Fili’s mouth. He was going to make it a tender kiss but strong fingers gripped the back of his head and he found himself dizzy from the intensity. Slowing down was going to be difficult.

He pulled away. “Not so fast. You want to enjoy it.”

Fili licked his lips, eyes burning dark and said, “I am enjoying it. I’ve waited all my life for this. Don’t torture me.”

Kili nodded. “Okay, I won’t. Lay back and relax. Tell me what you want.”

The blond looked at him and his eyes hooded as he said, “Suck me. Please suck me.”

“My pleasure…”

The Irishman kissed him again and then let his lips pull away to slide down the length of Fili’s neck. He traced fire across his chest, stopping by a nipple for only the briefest moment, drawing forth a soft moan of pleasure. His hands were busy sliding up and down Fili’s body, exploring him, reveling in the hardness of his muscles and the silk of his skin.

Kili licked a path down to his navel and stopped for a moment to nuzzle and explore it before descending lower. His hands were already on a quest, sliding first down tense thighs and then up the soft skin of the inner leg where they joined his body. One hand gently cupped Fili’s stones, first squeezing with infinite tenderness and then rolling them slowly in the palm of his hand. He paused as a shudder quaked the Kiwi’s body, holding still lest he trigger an orgasm. When the tension eased, he squeezed again, this time only eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure.

But when he pressed his lips to the tip of Fili’s cock the sigh turned into a cry of surprise and pleasure. The blond jerked and then pressed upward, demanding more. Kili kissed the head and then parted his lips to allow his tongue to trace the delicate slick velvet of the head. The foreskin had rolled back, giving him access to the tender frenulum at the base. He flicked it with his tongue eliciting a shiver accompanied by a moan. Smiling, he curved his tongue to form a bed for the beautiful cock he was about to suck.

Kili was slow and gentle, letting Fili set the pace with his instinctive thrusts upward. He was surprised when he felt his hair being lifted up and tucked behind his ear. Kili smiled to himself as he realized that his partner wanted to watch. He was only too glad to oblige and positioned himself to give the best show.

It only took a few breathless minutes before Fili’s moans turned to sobs and his hand tangled in Kili’s hair, pushing him down harder. The Irishman turned it on and in moments had Fili arching up as he poured himself out, crying Kili’s name as he came.

Kili never swallowed, they didn’t pay him enough for that. This time he found that he very much wanted to take all of Fili in, as if by doing so he could keep a part of this experience forever. He gulped, ignoring the bitterness, focusing instead on the pleasure he was giving. He rode out the aftershocks, sucking much more gently, his hand once again cupping Fili’s balls, enjoying the sensation as they tensed and drew up tight.

When Fili pulled away, Kili released him and slid back up the bed. To his surprise, the blond pulled him close, licking at the slickness on his lips, tasting himself, before deepening the kiss. It was so erotic that Kili nearly climaxed from the kiss alone. He reached down to take himself in hand, but his motion caught Fili’s attention.

He broke the kiss and gently tugged at Kili’s hand. “Let me. Teach me how to do what you just did.”

Kili was surprised. Unless it was something the client was into, reciprocation just didn’t happen. With a few exceptions, clients didn’t pay money for him to get pleasure.

“You don’t have to do that,” the Irishman said reassuringly. “You might not like it.”

The smile was blinding, the dimples making Kili’s toes curl. “If its you, I’ll love it.”

Not needing any more convincing, Kili returned the smile. “Just try to remember what I did to you and no teeth. Ever.”

Fili nodded, his focus having shifted to the expanse of Kili’s body, long and lean, dark hair spreading out over the brunet’s chest to surrounding his nipples and then dipping to his navel, where it pooled out before descending into a dark tangle that nestled around the base of an impressive erection.

Resisting the urge to go straight for his goal, Fili made himself take a breath and try to recall what he had just enjoyed so much. Neck kisses were nice, combined with tiny licks and nips. Forcing himself to move slowly, he nibbled his way down Kili’s neck, feeling the scrape of his stubble against his lips. The taste was salty with sweat, but the scent was a mix of soap, shampoo, and Kili’s own unique fragrance. He nuzzled in and took a deep breath, something his partner found incredibly erotic.

Kili’s chest was so different from his own. The muscles lay differently, he was much thinner and Fili frowned slightly as he drew his fingers over too-prominent collar bone and ribs. Fili’s chest hair was almost a mat of curls, where the Irishman’s was long and soft, thicker along his breastbone and descending into a lovely treasure trail. His nipples were darker, a soft golden-rose that went with the olive of his skin. Fili found them exquisite and paused to look a little longer before descending to tease them into stiffness. He alternated between the two, eliciting soft sighs of approval.

“Please,” Kili whispered, unable to stand the sweet torture of Fili’s mouth and hands. “Please, more…”

Fili slowly worked his way down, licking as he went. The spread of hair around Kili’s navel fascinated him and he took a moment to explore it with kisses and nibbles. He was urged downward when he felt Kill’s hand on the back of his head encouraging him to continue without further pauses. He was only too happy to slide all the way down.

He was glad that the Irishman hadn’t shaved his groin like so many men had in the photos online. Fili was enchanted by the soft poof of hair and nuzzled into it breathing deeply of the heady aroma of sex and Kili. It was intoxicating and he tarried too long, earning him another gentle push of encouragement.

He took Kili’s erection in his hand, marveling at the weight of it. It was one thing when it was your own, but holding another man’s engorged sex somehow felt completely different and very, very exciting. He was glad that Kili wasn’t as large as many of the escorts had advertised. He wasn’t small either though, and had what the Kiwi would called a “pretty dick.”

The Irishman’s foreskin had pulled back just enough to expose the center of the head, like a flower blooming. Fili bent and kissed the tip, finding the delicate pillow of foreskin softer than the finest velvet. He was entranced by the feel of it against his lips and kissed it again, before flicking his tongue out and sliding it over the weeping eye. He was startled at Kili’s reaction, pulling back in case he’d somehow hurt him.

The brunet chuckled. “Sorry, it felt so good I jumped a little. I’ll try to hold still.”

Fili shook his head. “No, don’t do that. I want to know when I’m doing it right.”

“You’re doing fine, brilliant in fact. Just remember, no teeth. Just think about where the sensitive parts of your cock are and apply it to mine.” Kili propped himself up so that he could see better. It was a spectacular view and he let himself relax and enjoy the feeling of being pleasured.

Fili knew that the rim of foreskin around the tip was incredibly sensitive, almost too much and the skin just behind it was just a little less tender. The head could take more direct stimulation but the tiny area just under the head was also an area where he had to take care. He licked experimentally again and found the taste not at all unpleasant. The slickness was so erotic he had to stop himself from treating it like a lolly.

He formed his mouth into an ”O” and slowly slid down the shaft. The moan of approval from Kili told him that he was doing just fine. Fili would die before telling anyone that he’d practiced on a dildo just in case he might have a partner one day. His practice was obviously paying off.

It soon became evident to the Irishman that he had an apt pupil who needed no supervision. He was free to lay back and drift on the waves of pleasure that rolled from his cock up his spine. He couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone and had mutually pleasurable sex. He knew Fili was spoiling him, but it felt too good to worry about.

Fili pulled out every trick he had ever read about. He was having the time of his life and he had no reason to hold off. The only time Kili interfered was when he tried to deep throat from the wrong position. The brunet got him through the embarrassment of having a choking fit with a few tips about not exceeding the depth he was comfortable with. Fili agreed, feeling better when Kili winked at him and told him he was an ace at this.

The Irishman could feel his orgasm pooling in the base of his spine and his testicles starting to draw up. As much as he hated to give up the feeling of Fili’s mouth of his cock, he reached down and wound his fingers in Fili’s hair. “I’m going to come. Just sit up and finish me off with your hand.”

“Uh uh,” Fili replied. He’d waited years for this and he wasn’t backing off now. Instead he changed to a steady up and down movement, sucking as hard as he could.

Kili arched, driving his cock deeper into Fili’s mouth as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Fili held on, sucking even harder, swallowing as quickly as he could. The taste was bitter and the texture was like nothing he’d ever had in his mouth before. It was gross and it was erotic and he would have died before stopping. He rode Kili through his aftershocks before allowing himself to be pulled away.

He started to sit up only to be met halfway by Kili, who grabbed him and kissed him hard, hungry for the feel of his mouth. The kiss was hard, almost rough. It was need, and want, and tasted of hello and goodbye, but felt like stay with me.

When they finally were able to part, Kili lay back with Fili still in his arms. The blond nuzzled against him. “That was incredible.” His voice was soft and slightly hoarse.

Kili smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Yeah. It was kinda awesome.”

That statement was met with a snort. “Only kinda?”

The Irishman was in a teasing mood. “Well, you are still learning…”

And that was when Fili discovered that Kili was very very ticklish.

There was a flash of flailing limbs, squeals higher pitched than a man should have been able to make and a torrent of giggles and laughter. It ended with Kili sitting astride Fili, pinning his outstretched arms.

“Do you give up?” He asked, curls hanging in sweaty tangles around his smiling face.

Fili looked up at him. “Not as long as you are going to be this fucking gorgeous and sit on me naked.”

“I may just have created meself a monster.” He leaned forward and kissed Fili filthily, all tongue and teeth.

Fili growled deep in his throat and the kiss broke when they both started to laugh.

“What am I going to do with you?” Kili asked breathless.

Fili’s reply was a languid, “I’d say fuck me, but I have to piss like a racehorse and I’m starving, so how about if I pee, we shower and I feed us?”

The brunet leaned down to kiss him again and the shift in weight sent a thrill up Fili’s spine – and not a good one. He looked up, his blue eyes holding a look of urgency. “I really hate to have to ask you to move, but if you aren’t into water sports you should probably do it quickly. You’re sitting right on my bladder.”

Kili practically bounced sideways and sat grinning as Fili bailed and raced to the loo. From the sound of it he had a bladder like a racehorse as well. Still grinning, Kili walked past him, resisting the urge to give him a sharp slap on the rump. He didn’t feel like cleaning up piss, so the harassment wasn’t worth it. He turned on the shower and let it warm up.

Taking a shower with another man was also a new experience for Fili. Kili didn’t think he had ever been so clean…everywhere. He also found he had an amazingly short refractory period when it came to a certain beautiful blonde with questing hands and sweet kisses.

They dried one another off taking an inordinately long time, during which Fili acquired his first hickey. When they both started to chill, Fili reluctantly slipped on a pair of briefs and darted out to the kitchen. By the time Kili arrived, pans were already on the stove and a cookbook was propped open on a stand. Kili frowned and stood there puzzled. He’d expected cereal at best, not a meal. He hadn’t had real food for breakfast since his mam died.

The thought brought back memories of a tiny kitchen in a dingy flat that always seemed to smell of cinnamon and spices. They didn’t have much, but Mam always found a way to keep a supply of cookies for her starving boy. She’d press several into his hand and tell him that growing boys needed sugar and spice too because her boy was not made from “snips and snails and puppy dog’s tails.” Kili smiled. He hadn’t thought of that old rhyme in years.

Kili watched Fili moving around, busy with pans and ingredients, apparently deeply involved in some amazing kitchen alchemy that eluded the Irishman. He was surprised when a mug of coffee appeared in front of him, delivered by a wizard with blue eyes and a bit of egg stuck to his chest hair.

“Shouldn’t you put on a shirt before you burn one of your bits?” Kili asked with an arch look at Fili’s chest.

Fili turned back to the stove. “Probably, but I didn’t think of it and I can’t leave the hollandaise to fend for itself.”

Kili dumped some sugar into his coffee and stirred. Fili was speaking a foreign language as well as being a wizard. Still, there were those lovely gold and pink bits to think of.

“How about if I get you a shirt?” he volunteered.

“Second drawer, any of those will do,” he called over his shoulder, careful to keep stirring the sauce.

Kili went back into the bedroom and stopped at the dresser, well actually between them. Fili had two. How did anyone have that many clothes? He paused and looked at the framed photos atop the chests. They were full of smiling people, the woman with blond hair that was wavy like Fili’s. There were several photos of a large dog with big eyes and whiskers and a photo of a young, impossibly pretty Fili behind the wheel of a green Jeep sort of thing that looked almost as if it was made out of cardboard boxes.

He looked up and noticed that there were photos on the walls as well. One long frame had a shot of a beach with black sand; several more had sunsets and the opposite wall held sunrises. Kili guessed that this was where Fili hung his memories of home. Maybe they made him feel less lonely and homesick.

The thought triggered an unexpected sadness and a flash of anger. The few memories he had were in the possession of a dodgy landlord. Kili chose the chest with the photo of the dog, hauled the second drawer open, and found a pile of neatly folded Tee shirts. He grabbed the first one and nearly fled the bedroom with its memories of his own home long gone and lost to him forever.

He handed Fili the shirt and then burst into laughter when he saw that the front was covered in pastel sheep. “You must like sheep,” he commented between giggles.

The Kiwi blushed a little as he slipped the shirt on. I guess I do, they’re kinda cute, but New Zealand has a lot of sheep. For a while, we had more sheep than people. My mum got me this shirt ages ago at an agricultural fair. I was in the sheep barn and got asked to hold a lamb for a minute. I didn’t want to give it back.”

That made a great mental image for Kili even though it did make Fili blush harder. “I don’t remember, but mum said I asked the man if you could housebreak a sheep. Apparently, I thought I could add it to my menagerie. I was disappointed, so mum said she was getting me the next best thing. I’m not sure a shirt was it, but sometimes you take what you can get,” he said ruefully.

“Oh Christ!” Kili laughed so hard he bent over. “We couldn’t have pets in our flat, but that didn’t stop me from dragging home an injured hedgehog I found. Me poor mam had to put up with probably the only vicious hedgehog ever.

 “After it got better and I let it go I tried to sneak in a grass snake I bought with a bit of money I saved. I got it from a schoolmate and wanted to name it St. Patrick. I had to give it back and I didn’t get a refund. Mam said something about me having it in Ireland was close to blasphemy and I had to confess to the priest about it. That was the last of me pets,” he finished with a sigh.

Puzzled, Fili asked, “What did the priest say? Did you get into trouble?”

“Something I couldn’t tell me mam…that he would liked to have seen the snake before I gave it back.” Even the admission that he’s also had to do ten Hail Marys didn’t diminish Kili’s roguish grin.

 Fili chuckled at the mental image of young Kili and a grass snake who would have been welcome at confession.

“Okay, now that I’m decently covered. Sit down because I have to pay attention to what I’m doing. Breakfast will be done in just a couple of minutes.” With that Fili turned back to the stove, waved his magic wand and produced a breakfast that made Kili stare at it as if he were afraid to touch.

“What is this? It looks brilliant?” He tapped the edge of the muffin with the tip of his fork, covering it in the rich hollandaise sauce.

“Eggs Benedict. Haven’t you ever had it before? My mum used to make it every Sunday for breakfast.” Fili refreshed Kili’s coffee mug and took a seat across from him.

“I’ve never even heard of it. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” Kili honestly didn’t know what to say about the breakfast, or the sleepover, or Fili’s attitude for that matter. He was in strange seas, so he fell back on Catholic school manners and thanked the blond politely.

Fili smiled reassuringly, “It’s no trouble honestly. Mum taught me shortcuts and as long as you keep stirring the sauce it’s as easy as anything else you cook for breakfast.”

Kili tucked in and the first bite convinced him that he’d died and gone to heaven. “This is amazing,” he said around his mouthful. Fili just smiled in return.

When they were done eating, Fili started to clean the table, but Kili beat him to it. Manners he thought he’d long forgotten kicked into gear and he whisked the dishes out from under Fili’s nose and gently set them in the sink and started to run water.

“Just give them a swish. I have a dishwasher, so there’s no need for you to do them. Anyway, you’re company.”

Kili shut off the water and turned around. His face was unreadable.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. I’m not company – I’m an escort you hired to do a job. Didn’t you read my ad, I don’t do ‘boyfriend experience.’” His face was guarded and his voice a little too sharp.

“No, I didn’t read your ad. I just asked them to pick someone for a…a beginner. I don’t know what ‘boyfriend experience’ is. All I know is that we could both use a friend. That’s all.”

Fili was upset and confused. He didn’t know what to do with his feelings. He did want Kili to be his boyfriend in some ways. He liked the man he met at the store and that opinion hadn’t changed. He also knew that you don’t fall in love with the first man in your bed, especially not if you’ve paid him to be there. For Kili it was a job and only a job. He was down on his luck right now, but that wouldn’t last and he’d be spending his evenings servicing strange men.

At that thought, Fili’s brain stopped processing. He couldn’t even begin to conceive of doing that, let alone making it his livelihood. Kili seemed like a good Catholic boy who loved his mum and hedgehogs that bit. Being a rent boy didn’t fit into that. Not anywhere.

Not in Fili’s world.

Kili stood there and looked at him. He was equally adrift. He’d been turning tricks since just before his eighteenth birthday when the bit of money his mam had left had run out and it was either that or starve. He’d had some decent clients, he’d also had some bad ones and a couple that had left him bruised and aching and glad he was fast with his fists. But he had never had one fix him a fancy breakfast and tell him he was a guest. That might be for the high-priced escorts – but certainly not for rent boys.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Kili said, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really not a guest. I’m sorry…I’m just not.”

He dried his hands on a kitchen towel and started to walk out of the room. Fili’s next words stopped him.

“Where are you going to go?”

“I’ll find some place.” He turned to go.

“Where?” Fili asked sharply. “Your landlord has all your clothes and probably some things that mean a lot to you. Any money you get is going to him to get them back before he chucks them in the bin.”

Kili’s reply was raw. “It’s none of your business. What we did this morning doesn’t mean you can butt into me life.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” Fili heaved a sigh.

He stood defeated watching as Kili vanished into the bedroom and came out dressed, carrying his bag. Where was he going to go?

Suddenly Fili found himself between Kili and the door. He had his wallet out and extended his credit card. “I’m buying another night.”

Kili stopped dead, making no attempt to take the card. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can. Its just business. If you want cash, I’ll go out and get it for you.” His lips were firm, his blue eyes almost silver. Resolute, he stood there between the Irishman and the street.

Kili didn’t know what to do. The extended credit card never wavered and neither did Fili’s eyes. “I can’t take your money,” he finally said.

“You can and you will. Business is business. I can go get cash, or write you a check.” The look on Fili’s face said he wasn’t going to be talked out of it.

“Fuck this, mate,” Kili’s voice was ragged, his accent thicker. “Just let me be goin’. Ya don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ve been taking care o’meself for a long time. I’ve been in worse fixes than this.”

“You probably have,” Fili replied. “I don’t _have_ to do this. I _want_ to do it. You probably don’t understand. Hell, I’m not I understand it. But it just seems wrong for me to let you leave while I’m all alone here in this apartment and you don’t have any place to go. Maybe by tomorrow you can figure something out, but for now you’re staying here.”

“I can’t take your money.” Kili looked like he was going to break down. “Honest, I’ll be okay. I can find a place to crash tonight. Maybe I can pick up…” His voice trailed off as he realized what he was about to say. The look on Fili’s face told Kili that he didn’t need to finish the sentence for the Kiwi to have understood.

“Please don’t do this. I can’t take your money.” Kili said, his voice trembling, the look in his eyes was that of a trapped animal.

Fili backed off. “I’m sorry I pushed so hard. I just didn’t want you to leave here with no place to go. I can’t let that happen. I just can’t. It’s cold and it's going to get colder tonight.”

Kili stood staring at him, not sure what to say. Finally, he just shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I always find a way.”

Without even thinking about it, Fili swooped at him and deftly snared the bag from Kili’s hand. He took it into the second bedroom and threw it on the bed. Kili got there just in time to see art and photo supplies being picked up and stacked against the wall.

“There. Now you have a place for the night.” The look on the Kiwi’s face brooked no argument. “It’s free. No one is using it, so it would be stupid for you not to sleep here.”

Kili was out of arguments. He flashed back to finding out his mam was dead and that the rent was due anyway. He forced his mind back to the present, but it left him drained. He walked past Fili without looking at him and sat down on the bed. He felt boneless and exhausted. He didn’t notice when Fili quietly left and shut the door.

Kili kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed. It was big and soft and smelled nice. He did laundry every week but the old mattress in his flat always smelled a little musty. Everything about his life smelled a little musty, a little old, a little used…kind of like him.

He threw an arm over his face and ignored the tears that refused to stop leaking out of the corner of his eyes. Gradually he drifted off to sleep and dreamed of cookies made from sugar and spice.

 

 


	4. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust me,  
> I'm giving you a chance, so take it  
> I got all you want, you'll make it  
> Standing there in front of me, you're naked  
> You can't hide a thing; you've got no choice

                                                                                                                                               

 Trust Me

 

Fili stood there looking at the closed door. When Kili didn’t come back out, he heaved a sigh and walked back into the kitchen to fix a mug of tea. He used the microwave to heat the water, ignoring the mental nudge from his gran who would have been horrified that he didn’t boil the water properly in a kettle. Not that it mattered, as he chose orange-spice herbal tea, which was just boiled grass as far as she was concerned.

Leaving gran in the kitchen, Fili carried the mug into the living room and sat in the easy chair where he could see the door. He expected to see the Irishman emerge at any moment and simply walk out of his life with the same matter-of-factness that he had walked into it.

It was just business.

Fili remembered the way he’d been held and kissed. He could still feel Kili arching up against him in the shower, wet and slick, hard and needing. And the power of the kiss afterward hadn’t been business. Kili’s lips were hard on his and the kiss hadn’t broken until they were both breathless. There was want in it and lust. He didn’t have to have the experience to recognize desire in his partner.

It hadn’t been business when Kili had dropped to his knees on the hard tile of the shower, taking a surprised Fili deep into his mouth and drove him nearly mad. There hadn’t been anything studied or professional, there had only been raw lust and driving need. Kili hadn’t broken away until Fili tangled shaking fingers into his curls and pulled hard.

His trembling legs had given out and he’d knelt in the shower, held up only by Kili’s strong arms. They’d stayed that way for long minutes, the warm water sluicing over them as one kiss dissolved into another, until Fili hadn’t been able to tell which breath was his and which was Kili’s.

It hadn’t been business when the Irishman pulled Fili’s hand to himself to beg for attention. They’d knelt on the hard tile, not feeling it beneath their knees, their only focus on Kili’s pleasure.

He’d arched up and came with a shout that included Fili’s name, spattering Fili’s chest with his completion. Fingers biting into the blond’s shoulders as every muscle strained with the force of his orgasm. Kili kissed the red dents he’d made, soothing them as he slid his hand over Fili’s chest to wash away the glistening dapple of his semen. No, that hadn’t been business at all.

And now Fili had a rent boy in his spare bedroom.

Uni and his life up until now had certainly never prepared him for this.

He took another sip of tea and looked at the door. Blessedly it stayed shut. He was given to dragging home strays, something his mother had indulged, and his father had ignored. He wondered what they would make of Kili. He wasn’t a puppy or kitten, or a bird with a hurt wing. He was an adult male and he sold his body to anyone willing to pay his price.

Fili winced at that last thought. It was unkind and judgmental, even if it was accurate. Sex work was legal in both New Zealand and England. Polite society might not approve, but there was nothing shameful or wrong in what Kili did. He deserved no more disrespect than a masseuse.

The Kiwi got up and took his empty mug into the kitchen and washed it. He pulled the breakfast dishes out of the dishwasher. His hands needed something to do. Could he live in a platonic relationship with a man with whom he had made love and still desired? Could he deal with the idea of Kili living here, working as an escort and sleeping with other men to earn a living?

Fili was at an impasse with his thoughts, there was as much con as pro with even the idea of letting Kili stay. He pushed his mental debate aside and turned on the radio. He was ready to switch stations when Elton John came on and the song held him mesmerized.

 _Trust me,_  
_I'm giving you a chance, so take it_  
_I got all you want, you'll make it_  
_Standing there in front of me, you're naked  
_ _You can't hide a thing; you've got no choice_

 _Looking back it makes me shiver_  
_Don't be scared to kick the past_  
_Selling lovers down the river  
_ _Nothing built for speed will last overnight_

 _All those years of desolation  
__Pretty boys and damage_ done  
_Not the way to find salvation  
__Looking after number one_

_Fili felt a shiver up his own spine at the words._

_Trust me, trust me_  
_I'm giving you a chance, so take it_  
_I got all you want, you'll make it_  
_Standing there in front of me, you're naked_  
_You can't hide a thing, you've got no choice  
_ _Trust me_

The song ended and Fili stood there thinking about the words: _“Standing there in front of me, you're naked. You can't hide a thing, you've got no choice.”  
__“Trust me.”_

If ever a man had stood naked it was Kili.

He was stripped of everything. Everything he owned was locked away from him. The only thing that hadn’t been taken was his dignity. Kili had seen animals so abused and without hope that not even that was left. The thought of it happening to Kili chilled him.

_“I'm giving you a chance, so take it.”_

Leaning on the sink, he looked out the window. It was early afternoon in London town. The sky was leaden, promising rain. They’d slept late and had brunched even later. The sun would have been up and bright in Auckland, but not here. It In this hemisphere autumn was coming on strong. He checked his mobile and found that it was only 19 degrees with an expected drop to 9 at night.

_"You can't hide a thing, you've got no choice, Trust me."_

There was no help for it. He would have to deal with the realities that had presented themselves to him on a tarnished silver platter. Kili needed a place to stay.

The Irishman needed someone he could trust. He didn’t need Fili being a twat and mooning over him as if they were boyfriends. Kili was trying to be an adult, so he had to be one as well.

His mind made up, he grabbed his keys off the table and headed out the door. He had some errands to run.

 

* * *

 

When Fili returned some 45 minutes later, the bedroom door was still shut. He wanted to check, but he couldn’t figure out an excuse, so he busied himself with putting away the groceries as quietly as he could. He went over to the corner of the living room that he used as an office and turned on the computer.

He sat staring at the blank page for several minutes, not knowing what to write. Slowly he began to formulate what he wanted to say. He checked several places online, copied and pasted until he had at least a rough idea. It would need some refining, but it was workable. He sent a copy to the printer and then went online again.

He went to the site of the service that had called him and started looking around. The majority of ads were of smooth-chested blokes who seemed evenly split between young twinks and musclemen. None of them looked like Kili. Many had nice enough introductions, but some of the descriptions of what they were willing to do baffled him. Fortunately, the page supplied links to explain the more esoteric…no, make that fetishistic words. His thought ranged from what is that, to you’re going to do what??

He finally found [Kili’s ad](http://s4.postimg.org/bbj43jtrh/Randy.jpg) ([X](http://s4.postimg.org/bbj43jtrh/Randy.jpg)) and sat there reading it, unsure how he felt. All the other photos were of clean shaven hairless men, most of whom rippled with muscles. Many boasted of huge cocks and showed photos of the same. By comparison, Kili’s two photos were very tame. His promise to deliver “a WILD experience that focuses more on role-play, fetishes, fantasies, costumes, bondage, domination, and other kinky accessories available on request,” had Fili wondering, but he was a little relieved to see that Kili stated “safe sex only” and that he would only top for bondage and BDSM. And no chem – drugs were off limits.

He was torn between thinking how different the guy in the ad sounded from the one in his spare room when there was a noise behind him.

“Now, do you see why I can’t stay here?” Kili’s voice was rough. When Fili spun around he saw that the Irishman’s face was a thundercloud, eyes nearly black as he looked over Fili’s shoulder at the screen.

Fili looked up at him, seeing only a guy whose hair was tangled from sleep, and who looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was tired in a way Fili had never known. It went beyond the physical, deep into Kili’s soul.

“That’s who I am,” Kili said, his voice as bitter as his expression. “I’m the guy who can always get it up no matter what sick shit you can think up and are willing to pay me for. Want me to piss on you, or shove me fist up your arse, or worse…?

He stepped back as if he didn’t want to be so close to the ad on the screen. When he did, Fili stood up to face him. He was a few inches shorter, but he felt both taller and stronger at the moment.

“Stop talking rubbish! You said you went to acting school for a year. You learned how to act. You’re selling them a performance, nothing more.” His own blue eyes darkened with intensity. “It’s just business. We all sell what they’re willing to buy.”

Kili looked down at Fili and shook his head sadly. “You’ve not spent a night cold and hungry on the street and been willin’ to sell your soul to be warm and fed. You don’t know how that feels.”

Fili could feel tears welling up and forced them back. “No I don’t and I’m sorry as fuck that you do. No one should have to go through that. And I’ll be damned if I let you go through it again. You have a place to stay here until you can work something out.”

“I’m not for takin’ charity,” Kili spat, his Irish temper rising. I’ve been takin’ care o’meself for a long time. I don’t need some toff telling me what to do, or making offers that always have strings attached.”

Fili rose on his toes to equal their height. “No. You don’t need anyone telling you what to do. You’re a grown man and have been for too long. I’m not a toff, whatever the fuck that is, and there are no strings. None!”

He dropped his heels back down. “I know you don’t trust anyone, let alone me, at least not yet. But you could use a friend about now who could offer you a bit of help?” His voice softened, the challenge slipping from it as his eyes warmed to sky blue.

“We’re not friends,” Kili countered, taking a step back.

“Not yet, but we have a good start.” Fili smiled softly. “Or do you tell all your other clients your real name and some of your life story?

The look on Kili’s face made it plain that he didn’t. He never let customers into his private life yet somehow he’d opened the door a crack for the blond Kiwi with eyes like the summer skies.

Fili saw the change in Kili’s expression and knew he’d scored a direct hit. It gave him hope in an odd, comforting way.

“Look I’m not trying make you my boyfriend. You were nice and said that I’m naïve and not stupid. So, let’s presume that I’m not an idiot. I’m making the simple offer of a spare bed. It’s not much, I’ll grant you. My supplies have to share the space because there isn’t room for them anyplace else.”

Fili jerked his thumb at the computer screen that still held Randy’s ad. “What I see there tells me that you are an actor who doesn’t do drugs, refuses to actually hurt anyone, and demands safe sex. That’s more than I knew about any of my other flatmates.

Kili’s expression softened to puzzlement. He looked at Fili as if he were speaking a different language, one that was impossible to comprehend.

Fili stepped back and snatched the paper off the printer. He extended it to Kili, pressing it into his hand when he didn’t take it on his own.

“I drew this up. It says you are responsible for a third of the rent. You get kitchen privleges, but I expect you to buy your own food. You can’t smoke in here, but you can vape. I’ll get an air filter for when I paint so you don’t have to smell that shit. Hell, _I_ don’t want to smell that shit. I’ve a laptop I use sometimes, that you are free to use for your correspondence. I mostly use the big computer, so you can take it into your room. I’ll let you know if I need to use it.”

 _“Your room…_ ” The words echoed in Kili’s mind. He stood there, the contract held in nerveless fingers. “Why would you do this?”

Fili blushed a little. “I met the real Kili in the store and again this morning – the guy who never had to be Randy. He’s a pretty decent bloke who’s down on his luck just now. He’s the one I’m offering to share my flat with.

“It’ll be strictly platonic, in case you’re wondering. Here you’ll just be Kili and we won’t discuss our jobs. I paid you to punch my v-card, so that’s over and done with. From here out we’re just two blokes sharing a flat.”

The tall Irishman looked at the piece of paper, a bit crumpled now, with two lines for signatures. His brain was just catching up with what was happening.”

“Why only a third of the rent, and why don’t I start paying you until next month?” He peered at the paper to be sure. His face was still a stormcloud, but the storm was starting to move on and his brows had lifted slightly.

Fili’s reply was a smile. “Because my shit takes up so much room. You only get half the closet and there’s still a pile of my photography stuff in there. It wouldn’t be fair to charge you half. And it doesn’t start until next month because for some reason three months rent on this flat was part of my hiring agreement. I’ve only been here a bit over two, so you don’t pay rent until I do.”

Kili looked unconvinced, so Fili continued. “I’m the tenant and so I pay the rent. You will be paying me, not the landlord. If you can’t afford it because business has been bad, you can do the laundry and some cooking. I freaking hate doing laundry. And if you’re really late you’ll have to do dusting and hoovering as well.”

The Irishman finally lightened up. A little smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. “You must know how much I hate cleaning house.”

“Chores when you were a kid?” Fili asked knowingly.

“Yeah, me mam had to work two jobs, so I had to do all the cleaning. I wanted to be out playing on Saturday, but I had to muck out the flat.” He laughed, his eyes going back to honey-gold. “Taught me how to be neat so I didn’t have to do so much bloody work.”

Fili smiled and held out his hand. “So do we have a deal?”

Kili looked a little doubtful. Good things didn’t tend to come his way and he was still having difficulty processing this offer and what it meant.

“I can get a contract drawn up if it would make you more comfortable since this probably isn’t really legal. It’s just an agreement between two adults.” Fili was worried that Kili would turn him down.

Kili shook his head. "You're an odd one, Fili. No one's ever offered to help me like this before."

"Then it's their bloody loss," came the sharpish reply. "You can take my offer, or leave it. But at least its honest, with no strings." He gestured to the paper in Kili's hand. "Its all there in black and white. No hidden clauses. Just an agreement between gentlemen."

That made Kili laugh. "No one's ever called me a 'gentleman' before."

"That's probably because you've been so busy hiding yourself that no one's ever gotten to know you." Fili's eyes were merry, but his words were serious. "You've been nothing but a gentleman here and so I treat you as such. I promise no strings, no hidden clauses, just what's written on the paper. You're free to walk out that door any day you choose. I'll probably miss you, but I won't stop you."

Kili bowed his head for a moment as if thinking hard. Then he looked up, his hazel eyes flecked with gold. “I get the feeling that you are a man of his word, Philip O'Riordan.”

Fili grinned, “As are you Turlough Kildare.”

His hand was still held out and Kili reached out and took it, squeezing it hard and giving a single shake before releasing it again.

“Deal?” Kili asked.

“Deal.”

They both signed the paper, and both felt awkward. It was a comfort that neither took anything for granted. It was a shaky start, but both felt okay with it.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Fili dug into his pocket and pulled out a key attached to a keychain that had a brass Claddagh dangling from it. Holding it out, he said, “You’ll need a key.”

Kili took it gingerly. “You do know that giving a stranger the key to your flat isn’t so smart?”

Fili shrugged. “I’m not fussed about it. Most everything is insured. Anyway, if you steal anything I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass.”

Kili looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. After a moment, Fili joined him.

“That wasn’t a very effective threat was it?”

“No,” Kili admitted between laughs. “It wasn’t, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

Fili looked at the Irishman for a moment. God, he was so fucking handsome it practically hurt. Maybe the smooth-chested musclemen were the most popular, but he’d suddenly discovered his type and it was right in front of him, shaggy, with a smile that could power a thousand light bulbs.

Desperate to stop staring, he headed for the kitchen and came back with a bottle and two whiskey glasses. Kili’s eyebrow rose questioningly.

“Glenlivet 12-year-old single malt,” Fili said as he poured two liberal portions. “I bought this when I moved in, for the day I’d have something to celebrate. This seemed to perfect time to break the seal.”

“I didn’t think to bring ice. I can get some if you prefer,” he said as he handed Kili the glass.

Kili accepted the glass. “Good scotch is best drunk neat. Why water it down and spoil the taste?”

Fili lifted his glass and held it out. “To being flatmates, may we never fuck each other over.”

Kili gently clinked his glass to Fili’s, “Or piss each other off.”

They both took a sip. Fili, unused to strong drink suppressed the sudden urge to cough. Kili handled his much more smoothly, tipping back half of it without a blink.

Fili took a breath and looked into Kili’s eyes. “I have one more toast.”

He held up his glass.

“To trust.”

Kili hesitated for just a moment and then, having made his decision, rang his glass against Fili’s.

“To trust.”

 

 


	5. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you make a new flatmate feel comfortable? Fili has come up with the perfect idea. :)
> 
> The title and lyrics are from "Shelter" by Jars of Clay.
> 
>  
> 
> I want to thank everyone for your wonderful messages of support. You are all incredibly wonderful and I love you all!!! <3

**_Shelter_ **

_May this place of rest in the fold of your journey_  
_Bind you to hope  
_ _We will never walk alone_

 

Fili felt a little awkward after the toast. He looked at Kili and saw that the Irishman apparently felt the same. The New Zealander decided that it was up to him to play the host even though Kili was now just his flatmate. It had all seemed a lot easier when he was typing it up on the computer. He hadn’t had a roomie since uni and that was mostly trying to avoid each other. At the moment, the Irishman felt like a weird combination of roomie and guest. He could see the tension in Kili’s expression and wanted to put him at ease.

An idea popped into his head. Fili looked at the television and then at Kili. “Do you like movies?”

“Huh?” Kili was surprised by the non sequitur. “Yeah, I like movies. Why?”

“Well, the weather is shit, so I thought maybe we could make some popcorn and watch movies. I got stuff for pizza tonight.” Fili paused. “I hope you like pizza.”

“Yeah, I like pizza, doesn’t everyone?” Kili was still guarded, his shoulders tense. “But you don’t have ta feed me.”

“Maybe not, but I have to feed me and when things have been weird I always want pizza, with lots of cheese and enough bacon and sausage to clog your arteries.” He looked a little embarrassed.

Kili laughed. “Me mam called it ‘comfort food.’ Since you’ll be cooking anyway, I guess I could force meself to eat a bit.”

Grinning at him, Fili replied, “Wait until you taste it. My pizzas are aces. But meanwhile, you pick out some movies and I’ll make popcorn. Do you like the kind with lots of butter and salt?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Not for me, there isn’t” Fili said, already rummaging in the cupboard.

When Fili came back out with two large bowls of popcorn, he saw that Kili was still puzzling in front of the DVD case.

“So many movies. We never had much extra, so I didn’t get to go to many movies and I sort of got away from it. I haven’t seen most of these. I don’t know what to choose.”

Fili set the bowls down and came over. “It’s kind of fun to do a marathon of a series. Have you seen the original _Star Wars_?”

Kili shook his head. “People talk about it, so I know a little. It always sounded brilliant.”

Fili pulled two boxes out of the case. “Do you want the original, or the revised version with the new special effects?”

“You have the original?” Kili’s eyes brightened. “My mum said she saw it in the theater and it was magic.”

“Yeah, I think it was,” Fili replied. “I prefer it to the fancy new version. How about spending the afternoon in a galaxy far, far away?”

“That,” Kili said with a grin, “would be massively brilliant!”

Fili got beer to go with the popcorn and they each took a seat, Fili on the sofa and Kili over in the easy chair. After a couple of beers Kili joined him on the sofa to make it easier to talk. At first he’d sat quietly, but Fili could see that telltale look that people got when they were dying to say something. He’d paused the movie to let the Irishman ask questions. It was fun; he’d never been much of an expert on anything and found he enjoyed giving Kili the information he needed to tie the first and second series of movies together.

“So Luke Skywalker is the hero,” Kili said thoughtfully, his head slightly cocked. “I kinda like Han Solo better.”

Fili tried not to notice how handsome he was and chuckled. “Everyone likes Han Solo better. Luke improves, but he’s just a dumb kid. It’s more fun to think of being a space pirate.”

“Yeah, have a space ship and go anywhere you want.” Kili took a sip of beer. “I wonder what it would be like to be free like that?”

“Well, he still has to work and you saw that not everyone he works for is a good guy,” Luke replied. “Han’s not really a good guy either.”

“But he’s his own man.” Kili’s statement just hung there. He suddenly got interested in his popcorn and Fili turned the movie back on without comment. They both knew what Kili had meant.

Even though Fili had seen _Star Wars_ at least a dozen times he still found himself getting lost in the movie and occasionally, to Kili’s amusement, quoting lines along with the actors. He kept watching the brunet, enjoying Kili’s immersion in the story. It was more fun watching him than the screen.

When Darth Vader was strangling one of his unlucky subordinates, Kili spoke up. “The hedgehog I told you about, I named him Darth Vader.”

Fili chuckled. “Darth the hedgie. Could he use the Force?”

“No, but he could bite hard enough to draw blood. He was about as friendly as this bloke.” Kili laughed at the memory. “Mam named him and I think she got it spot on.”

When the movie ended Kili looked at him hopefully. “Can we watch the next one?”

Fili laughed. “Yup. It’s called _The Empire Strikes Back_ and I have it out. I have to go do something in the kitchen, so you can put it on. You want another beer?” Kili allowed as how he did, so the Kiwi was back in a few minutes with cans just in time to catch the Irishman as he returned from the loo.

“You know,” Fili commented sagely, “you can’t buy beer – you can only rent it.”

That one took Kili a minute to process, then doubled him over, nearly making him pour the beer on his foot. “You got that right, mate,” he replied, flopping down on the couch. “For some of my customers, it’s the only exercise they get.”

He shut up abruptly as he realized what he’d said, but Fili chose to roll with it. “Sounds like my Uncle Will. My dad says if it wasn’t for trips to the fridge and the loo, he’d have forgotten how to walk.”

Kili laughed politely and then changed the subject. “Is this one as good as _Star Wars_?”

“It’s supposed to be better; some say it’s the best one of the series.” Fili took a swig of beer and shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think anything can top the first one.”

The Irishman let himself get lost in the second film. He loved the tauntaun and surreptitiously put aside his popcorn when Luke got stuffed into it. That made Fili smile, but he was careful not to let Kili see him do it.

Kili was on the edge of his seat for the chase through the asteroid field, cheering loudly when Han tipped the Falcon sideways and wiped out the last two TIE fighters on his tail. He looked embarrassed until he realized that Fili was practically bouncing up and down as he cheered the mercenary on.

The escape from the creature in the cave caused another whoop and this time both Fili and Kili burst out laughing. “I thought they were gonna be lunch!”

“I hold my breath every time I see it. I feel like an idiot, but I do it anyway.” Fili was grinning. There was nothing more fun than sharing his favorite movies with someone new to them.

Kili definitely did not like the idea of Han in carbon freeze. Solo was his hero and he wanted to be reassured that he got out in one piece.

“Don’t worry,” Fili said when the movie ended, “He’s everyone’s favorite character. I don’t think Lucas could have survived if Han had been killed. His fans would have murdered him.”

He stood up and stretched. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some pizza. Wanna help me make it?”

Fili went into the kitchen, pulled a covered bowl out of the oven and rounded up the flour and other ingredients while Kili watched wide-eyed. “Are you really going to make it yourself?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Fili replied waving a measuring cup toward a tattered recipe book. “I’m famous for my pizza. Well, I think I am anyway.”

Kili’s look of amazement dissolved into a laugh. “I thought you bought one of the frozen ones.”

The measuring cup was traded for the wooden spoon and Fili waved it at the Irishman in a display of domestic swordsmanship. “Never use the words ‘frozen pizza’ in my kitchen, or prepare to face the consequences, knave.”

Kili’s eyebrows shot upward, displacing his curls. He put both hands up in surrender. “I promise I’ll never do it again.”

Fili lifted the towel from the bowl and dumped the ball of dough on the floured counter. “I actually made up a batch of pizza dough a while back. All I had to do was thaw this and let it rise. I also cheated and cooked up some bacon and some sauce that’s been thawing, but we need to cook the sausage and if you want onion or capsicums they need to be sliced.”

“I can do that,” Kili volunteered. He crumbled the sausage into the skillet that Fili had heating on the stove. Using a fork, he deftly stirred the meat until it was done and then placed it on a plate he’d layered with paper towels. He turned to the cutting board and soon had a respectable pile of neatly sliced vegetables.

“You’re quite good at that,” Fili observed approvingly.

“Yeah, I used to help me mam and did some cooking when she was late.” Kili seemed embarrassed by the attention. Cooking was something he’d gotten good at out of self-defense. He didn’t have many things he could prepare, but what he made had always been eagerly consumed by flatmates and guests.

“Well, if you can cook then you can feed me sometimes,” Fili announced matter-of-factly. He plopped the huge pizza pan down and ladled the thawed sauce onto the dough. “Half of this is yours, so put what you want on it and don’t be shy, we have plenty of meat and cheese. I even got some pepperoni. I don’t know if they eat that in Ireland.”

“Oh yeah, we eat it,” Kili said, reaching for a handful to put on his half. To prove his point, some of it even made it onto the pizza.

Fili grinned as he watched the Irishman pile on the toppings and snitch slices of pepperoni to eat. He hated to admit how lonely he’d been and how much fun this was. It was like being back in uni at a party where everyone was drunk, and laughing, and not worrying about what tomorrow would bring.

They stuffed themselves while watching _Return of the Jedi_ with Kili alternately loving the Ewoks and being horrified at how barbaric they were. As far as he was concerned this was the best movie with so much to laugh at and cheer for.

He thought he was up for _The Phantom Menace_ but the pizza, beer, and stress caught up with him barely a quarter of the way through. He fell asleep and slid sideways to come to rest against Fili’s shoulder. The blond didn’t know what to do at first, and then slid an arm around him and let Kili sleep, safe and comfortable.

He sat there looking at Kili, not sure what to think. Fili was very attracted to him, but wondered how much of that was because of the sex they’d had. Of course, he reminded himself, he’d been interested in Kili at the store when he’d just been a stranger.

Kili shifted in his sleep, looking impossibly young and incredibly handsome. Fili gave himself a sharp mental prod. It was just stupid to fall for a rent boy. Plenty of other young men had been down on their luck and hadn’t turned to being an escort. He had a feeling that Kili had been into some very bad shit at some point in his life and had made more than a few bad choices.

Fili had always been a rescuer and this was just one more stray he’d dragged home, nothing more, but nothing less either. He’d committed to helping, something he was sure he was going to regret at some point.

The Kiwi smiled wryly. He really was incredibly fucking naïve. Well, there was no help for it. In for a penny in for a pound, his gran had always said. He was on his own with this one. He couldn’t very well call home and say, “Hey Mum, I’ve got a gorgeous rent boy sleeping in my spare room, do you have any suggestions?”

His laugh woke Kili who sat up abruptly, face flaming for having cuddled up to Fili. “Sorry, mate,” he muttered. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“No worries,” Fili replied. “You were only asleep a few minutes. I’m about dead too.”

He got up and started for his room, then turned back to Kili. “Do you want me to wake you up for breakfast or do you want to sleep in?”

“Better let me sleep in,” Kili replied around a yawn. “I never know when I’ll get back to bed.”

“Got it.” Fili yawned in reply. Damn those were catching. “Okay, see you when I get home from work tomorrow. We can have the rest of the pizza unless you can find something else you’d rather have. You’re free to cook up anything you fancy. If you cook, I’m all for buying the groceries.”

Kili nodded and turned to go into the bedroom.

His bedroom.

In a nice flat…in actual London.

Kili turned the doorknob slowly. When he closed it, he realized it had a lock. He could have privacy. There had been precious little of that when he was bouncing from flat to flat.

He stripped down to his briefs and pulled the sheet and blanket back. He was nearly settled when there was a soft knock at the door and Fili’s head popped in.

“There’s another blanket on a shelf in the closet. You might need it before morning.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Kili was feeling overwhelmed again, but Fili vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.

The Irishman lay back and pulled the sheet and blanket up. He’d been in plenty of nice beds, but they had never been his. He looked at the ceiling and tried not to think, but the sleep that had come so easily before eluded him.

He absolutely could not let himself fall in love with a client, no matter how handsome and nice that client might be. Fili might be older, but in so many ways he was more like a teen. Kili was old and used up. He’d seen and done it all, some of it more than once. Fili was just a nice trick, a stopping place until matters could be sorted. The likes of him didn’t belong with the likes of Fili. That was just laughable.

For so many years it hadn’t made any difference who he was, or what he’d done. He’d been notified at school of his mam’s death from a heart attack. At least it had been blessedly quick, but there were no savings. He could have finished the semester at Gaiety, but it seemed pointless since he was going to be homeless in a week and a half. He didn’t need to be in school – he needed to be getting a job that was full-time.

But with no training and no skill at maths, he quickly found the minimum wage jobs open to him would not keep a roof over his head. At seventeen he was only entitled to 70% of the pitiful €8.65 that unskilled workers earned. Flats were rare under €300 and anything under that was in a dodgy neighborhood or was manky beyond belief.

He’d stayed in his old flat until the manager had called the gardai and had him evicted. He left with ugly words on both sides ringing in his ears. He’d already sold everything he could, and packed anything that meant something to him, so there was precious little to leave when the door slammed behind him.

He’s spent the next few nights on a mate’s sofa. Then it was the start of the weekend and he was invited to a party. He didn’t remember much about it, but he did remember taking anything that he was offered. He remembered hands that came and went and feeling as if he could touch the stars. Everything else was a Technicolor blur.

He came back to earth two days later in a bedroom that stank of sex and pot, next to someone he had never seen before. He’d lurched into the loo and when he came out the man was standing there nude, looking as bad as Kili felt.

“Git yer kit on and get out,” he’d said irritably.

“I’m goin’ already,” came Kili’s surly reply. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like it had been used for a rugby game.

As he turned to go a hand was shoved in front of me. “Here’s what I owe ya. These were left over. Ya might as well have ‘em.”

Kili looked down to see a wad of bills and a rainbow of pills. “Thanks,” he said for lack of anything better.

There was a snort. “You earned ‘em. Now leave before me wife gets back from Limerick.”

Kili turned and fled, wincing at the sunlight as he went into the street. He had no idea where he was. The street signs were no help. He walked until he could find a place to get breakfast. Today’s paper was on the counter and the banner proclaimed that it was Monday and he was in fucking Kildare of all places. He had no memory of how he’d gotten there. He wasn’t hungry, but he ordered coffee. Staring into it, he tried to remember the last two days, but they were gone.

He pulled the wad of money out of his pocket and counted it. €140 was more money than he’d ever seen at one time. His fingers pushed the pills around, counting them. He could tell from the shape that most of them were ecstasy. There had to be a buyer for those as well. He could tell from the depression that was settling in that it was what he had taken, but he had no desire to drop another pill. He just wanted to get back to Clondalkin and find his mate.

He slept on the bus back to his neighborhood and then walked to the Starbucks where his mate worked. The coffee was over-priced and shite, but he let Billy pour him a cup of espresso anyway. It was on the house, so the quality wasn’t important; all he needed was the caffeine.

During his break Billy came over and sat down. “That must have been some party you were at,” he observed, poking his own cup of espresso. “I got two calls for you. I don’t know if you’re interested, but you could make some money. It’s better than working this shithole. If I looked like you, I’d think pretty hard about it.”

Kili had taken the numbers from him. As he tucked them into his breast pocket he knew that he was making a choice that would break his mam’s heart. He mentally shrugged. It beat sleeping on a mate’s sofa and working places like this for slave wages until he was too tired to stand up. That’s what had killed her…working like a dog until her heart had given out. He crumpled the phone numbers in his fist, trying to hold back his anger.

He looked at Billy who would never work a job any better than this one. “Thanks,” he said quietly and walked out the door.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t remember the next two years in anything more than bits and pieces. If there was a party – he was at it. If he was offered a drug – he took it. If someone needed companionship – they could have it for a price.

He made himself stop thinking. Beating up on himself just made things worse. His life had more or less chosen him and at least what he did was legal.

He held onto that thought as he fell asleep.

 

 

 

 


	6. Some Things Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the dawn of a new day, as the saying goes. Fili has a flatmate and Kili has a flat. Yin and yang, two men who couldn't be more different, both wondering if they can trust the other. One wants the start of a life. One wants the end of a life. Some things never change. Some things do. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title and lyrics from [**"Some Things Never Change" by Sara Evans**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v37owQVC4Hk)
> 
> If you can't read the notes, let me know and I'll post them to you.

 

**_Some Things Never Change_ **

_Gotta_ go _, even though it's not what he wants to do  
__But he does it, some things never change  
__In_ a world _that keeps turnin' and movin' so fast  
__When you can't hold on to nothin' and nothin' seems to last_

 

Fili got up and staggered into the shower. He’d gone to sleep the moment his head had hit the pillow. When he woke, it was with a fuzzy feeling that he’d done something that he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t until he shut off the alarm and woke up completely that he remembered what it was.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, did he really ask Kili to move in? This was way bigger than wanting a sheep. He laughed at himself. He’d never had a rescue deliver itself to his door before. Usually they had to be dragged home kicking and screaming. And is it a really a “rescue” to invite someone who seems to be a pretty decent bloke to be your flatmate?

Okay maybe it is a rescue, if the guy in question had no place to sleep and it was going to drop to nine degrees overnight. Fili wouldn’t leave a dog out in that, let alone a guy whose kisses he could still taste. He quickly shoved that thought to one side and went in to take a piss. After all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t use the money since the rent was fairly pricy.

Fili stood under the shower, his mind involuntarily traveling back to Kili coming on to him in the most incredible shower experience of his life. He was hard instantly and couldn’t resist sliding a soapy hand over his chest and erect nipples. As he grasped his cock and started to stroke slowly, he couldn’t think of a time when he’d got off thinking about a rescue before. The thought piqued his sense of humor and if he hadn’t already been so turned on, he would have laughed.

The shower was wonderful and erotic, and took entirely too long forcing him to settle for cereal, but at least he could make a pot of coffee. He tried to be quiet and Kili’s bedroom door had remained tightly shut. He left a couple of notes for Kili and bolted out the door to catch the tube to work.

Grabbing a morning paper, Fili lucked out and found a seat. Leaning back, he tried to relax and read the news. He couldn’t concentrate and folded the paper up again. Looking out, he saw the reflection of himself in the window _. I’m not a virgin any more_ , he marveled. Examining his face in the glass, he was a bit disappointed that there was no outward change. Shouldn’t something so important mark you in some way? His lips drew into a firmer line as he considered that if marks were left, Kili would bear the brunt of them. No, it was best that things like that didn’t show. He opened his paper again, rattled it to a more interesting page, and leaned back to at least try to read.

 

* * *

 

When Kili could no longer ignore the light pouring in through the curtains, he battled his way toward consciousness. He’d woken in any number of strange beds and it took him a few seconds to process where this one was. The moment he did, he was totally awake.

He sat bolt upright and looked around. Yes, there was the stack of painting supplies piled against the wall and the photographs and paintings on the soft green walls. He hadn’t dreamed it. He was in his own room in a nice flat on bloody Kingsland Road for fuck’s sake.

He bent his knees and then rested his head on them. He had to be out of his fucking mind. This was never going to work. He was going to screw it up like he did everything he touched. This wasn’t a bloody soap opera. He was no Eastender, he was just a rent boy from Clondalkin.

He carded his fingers through his hair, getting caught on a curl and wincing at the twinge. He should leave, but he had nowhere to go. He had to face it, his life was in the shitter and the water was starting to swirl. Here he sat in a stranger’s spare bedroom with one set of clothing to his name. He couldn’t even change his briefs for fuck’s sake!

He finally rolled out of bed, traipsed into the half-bath, did his business, and got dressed. His T-shirt needed a wash and he didn’t want to think about the rest of his clothes. No matter what, he’d always tried to keep himself clean and having to wear dirty clothes was depressing.

The scent of coffee drew him into the kitchen. There was a half a pot being kept warm by a little coffee maker. It smelled wonderful. A mug had conveniently been left out on the counter. He wished desperately for a cigarette, but he’d smoked the last one yesterday afternoon.

He yawned, poured himself coffee, and dumped in sugar. Without stirring he swallowed too much at once, wincing both from the heat and the bitterness. At least he was more awake now. He opened the fridge and took out the milk. He poured some in his coffee to cool it and drank the rest of the cup so he could refill it.

Several boxes of cereal were on the counter, ranging from healthy to the shit you ate as a kid. Apparently his new flatmate had varied tastes when it came to food. There was also a loaf of bread that looked to be some fancy multi-grain type. There was a note on the loaf:

 

 

Kili read the note a second time and felt like pinching himself to make sure he was awake.

What the actual fuck?

Who in the hell invites a homeless rent boy to move in and then treats him like a guest? Nobody he ever knew, that was for sure.

His stomach growled, putting an end to further pondering. Since he already had the milk out, he decided on cereal. Kili had to open several cabinets before finding a cereal bowl and thought he’d never find a spoon. He sat down and looked at the boxes of cereal. He considered the bran flakes for about half a second and then grabbed the Frosties and dumped them into the bowl, followed by three spoons of sugar and enough milk to make soup. Stirring it together, he sat and thought about what had happened over the last forty-eight hours.

His life had gone from being flushed down the loo, to sitting in a nice flat eating a breakfast that had been laid out for him. He unconsciously reached into his pocket to feel the key. Things like this just didn’t happen to him. Somewhere, somehow there had to be a catch, a string, a something that would yank it out from underneath him.

He chewed thoughtfully. Fili (funny how their names were nearly the same) seemed to be an honest bloke. Kili’s past experience wanted to label him as either a liar, or incredibly stupid, but he appeared to be neither. In an odd way, he reminded Kili of his mam. She never caught many breaks in life, but she was always there to lend a helping hand to someone who needed it. He never thought anyone who had gotten some breaks would be like that. Every person with money he’d ever met was selfish as hell.

Kili looked around the flat. Fili obviously did well for himself. The idea that someone who hired you would pay your rent for three months was just bizarre. How good did you have to be at something before someone would spend more money on you than they had to? It was a concept his mind refused to process, so he busied himself eating the rest of his cereal.

He rinsed the bowl and spoon and then put them in the dishwasher. Pouring the rest of the coffee into the mug, he wandered into the main bathroom. There, taped to the washer dryer was the other note.

 

 

Kili pondered it for a minute then shrugged. He stripped and threw his briefs and socks into the washer dryer with a load of Fili’s whites. The detergent had been thoughtfully left out, so he added it along with just a little bleach. He was careful since he’d reduced one whole load of his clothes to incredibly white clothing-shaped tissue paper by pouring in nearly the whole jug when he was younger and a lot dumber.

Since he was already naked, he decided to take a shower. He stopped the washer dryer and allowed himself the luxury of a hot shower that lasted until he was done, not just until the hot water ran out. He dried off and slid on Fili’s joggers, which were nearly the right length. He smiled a little at the thought of them bunched up around the blond’s ankles. After turning the machine back on, he wandered into the living room and spotted the laptop.

Since he had permission, he fired it up and logged onto his gmail account. He had two responses from his Craigslist ad. Kili opened the first one and smiled. Looked like he might be working tonight at ten. He quickly typed out a response and gave his phone number. With luck he’d get a call and be off for what sounded like a relatively vanilla time.

The second response made him wince and delete it immediately. There was always one who either wanted to talk dirty to a stranger, or who wanted to tell him that he was disgusting. He wasn’t sure which one annoyed him more. If he was feeling particularly irritated he’d write back to the haters and ask if they thought they could live on £960 a month? He’d tried working for minimum wage a couple of times. Just scraping by, coupled with the abuse that went with low pay, had driven him back to the street. This one was someone who wanted a freebie by writing something dirty, hoping Kili would read it. He didn’t. The trash was full of crap emails. He emptied it, feeling slightly better.

He checked his phone, made a mental note to buy some more minutes and then wandered around the flat, looking at things. He was tempted, but he didn’t snoop. The photos were by a variety of artists, showing that, while Fili had a healthy ego, he still found value in the work of others. One Kili was pretty sure was by that old guy who only took black and white photos. The rest were in color, some scenery, including an alcove that held multiple small, framed sunsets. He stood looking at them and just knew that Fili was the one who took them. He seemed the type who would go to the ocean at the end of a nice day with his camera. He probably sat there with a beer waiting for the right moment.

Kili couldn’t remember ever paying attention to a sunset. Of course, Dublin faced east and he was bloody unlikely to have ever gotten up just to watch the sun rise. Dawn was usually accompanied by grumbling and pulling the blankets over his head.

Since he was allowed access to the master bedroom, he felt free to look more at the photos and art there when he went in to look in on his laundry. The drawing that fascinated him was of a nude male that was a mix of photorealistic and modern art. It appeared to have been done with pencil. Kili didn’t know you could do art with pencils. He clicked his tongue in amazement as he viewed it from several angles.

The model was looking to the right, one hand outstretched as if he was reaching for something. His face was beautiful and serene, perfectly drawn, as was the right side of his body But the drawing blurred just past his left nipple and faded into a swirl that became a delicate plume of smoke that wafted upward as if the subject himself was slowly becoming as ethereal as the smoke.

Kili sat down on the bed and stared at it. It was as if Fili had seen into the future and predicted that a man whose soul was turning to ash would come into his life.

He stood up abruptly and shook his head. Now he was sounding like his gran. Feeling more than a little foolish, he checked on the laundry and found it done. He took it out and threw in the darks. He busied himself folding the whites, slipped his briefs on under the joggers, and went back to the living room and turned on the telly.

He wasn’t familiar with the controls but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the DVD would play movies. He rummaged around in the DVD cabinet and settled on _Up_. He’d heard it called a stupid cartoon, but the pictures from it intrigued him. He helped himself to a beer and sat down to check it out.

Ninety-five minutes later, Kili was surreptitiously wiping his eyes, even though he was smiling. For a silly cartoon, it was pretty damn profound. He switched off the player and the telly, heading for the loo to lose the beer and check on his laundry.

Kili changed quickly, happy to be back in his own clean clothes. He tossed the joggers into the washing basket, fixed himself a ham and cheese sandwich (damn that Dubliner cheese was good) and headed out the door.

He finished the last bite of his sandwich as he hurried down the front steps. It was a quick walk to the Dalston Kingsland station underground. Using his Oyster card, he hurried through the gate and headed for the train to Lewisham.

The tube was always crowded and he counted himself lucky to find a seat, even if it was between a pensioner who snored all the way and a chav with no front teeth and an attitude, who sat singing along with his iPod. Kili amused himself by thinking how sweet it would be to simply grab the back of his neck and pound his head against the pole in front of him until he shut the fuck up.

The meeting with his landlord went about as well as he expected. He’d had an hour to worry about it and the old man had picked up on his nervousness. The 250 pounds he’d handed over hadn’t made that much of a dent in what he owed.

“Yer still short 1400 quid,” was the acidic reply to the proffered cash. “I got the flat up fer rent. Somebody rents it, they get what’s in it. I ain’t got time or the inclination to give a fuck about your goods.”

Kili had nodded and walked away feeling sick to his stomach. What little he had was precious and the only connection he had to his mam and the days when he had a real life.

He walked down the street to Gillie’s Pub and spent a precious bit of the twenty-five pounds he’d kept back on a cheap beer. He looked at the reflection in the mirror over the bar. Was he really only twenty-two? He felt ancient and used up.

He pulled at the last of his beer and started to turn around when he felt a presence next to him. He didn’t know the man, but he knew the look in his eye. He glanced sideways at the bartender and gave him a little nod of thanks for throwing a bit of business his way.

“How much?” The voice was shaky betraying nervousness in spite of the bravado of the man’s posture and expression.

“Depends on what you want.” Kili replied quietly.

“Everything,” came the even shakier reply.

Kili sized him up. He was not from this neighborhood, too well dressed and too antsy. He’d come slumming, looking to scratch an itch he couldn’t attend to closer to home. He was not unattractive, with auburn hair and grey eyes that were hot with both lust and shame.

“I’m not cheap.” Kili said, standing up and flexing a little. “Two hundred for an hour and you pay for the room and the condoms.”

The man nodded. The Irishman smiled to himself. He’d judged right and upped the price. Kili left 10 quid on the bar as a tip and took the lead, striding out of the bar and down the street to the store on the corner for supplies and then to the hotel. He parted with another 10 for the clerk to look the other way about renting the room by the hour. If this trick stiffed him, he would barely have enough to get back to his flat.

Three hours later he was back on the tube heading for the East End. The trick was a decent sort, but without the balls to come out of the very small closet he’d stuffed himself into. To the Irishman’s surprise, he’d paid for another hour. He’d also wanted Kili’s phone number. All in all, it was an agreeable way to spend the afternoon. Kili usually enjoyed sex and this time was no different.

Or was it?

His post-coital bliss had evaporated almost immediately and his mood continued to drop. He was usually more relaxed afterward and even returning to shove another 375 pounds into the old bastard’s hand hadn’t helped. He felt as if there were a black cloud hovering over him.

One seated on the treain, Kili leaned back into his seat looking out of the window, watching the flashes as signs and adverts passed by. He could see his reflection. He looked at himself sitting there after having just turned a 400 quid trick. He should feel better than this, shouldn’t he?

It should be a good day.

Instead it felt like things would never change and it didn’t matter if today he was heading for Albert Square, because tomorrow he’d be right back on Footscray Road on his knees in a loo or alley just trying to make the rent.

He knotted his fists, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He wasn’t that hungry, stupid kid anymore. He wasn’t putting most of what he earned into his arm, or washing it down his throat with cheap booze. Not any more. He was making good money and it wasn’t his fault if Robby had turned out to be a scumbag.

Things were looking up. He had a decent place to stay and a decent guy to stay there with. So what if he owned only the clothes on his back at the moment. He’d pulled his skinny arse out of worse before and he’d do it again.

Some things never change, but he wasn’t one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Where Do I Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing in ways Kili could never have anticipated. It's confusing and more than a little scary. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title is from the song "Where Do I Go From Here?" from Pocahontas

 

 _But where do I go from here?_  
So many voices ringing in my ear  
Which is the voice that I was meant to hear?  
How will I know?  
Where do I go from here?  


 

Fili had a hard time concentrating at work. He alternated between giving himself hell for inviting a stranger to move in and worrying if Kili was okay. He tried not to think about the possibility of the Irishman selling everything of value to get his own things back and vanishing. All Fili had was the phone number for the service and the number they’d have for Kili would probably be to a burner phone, easily tossed in the trash.

He nearly stepped on the people waiting in front of the elevator as he dashed to get on. He ignored them, riding down in silence and then jogging to the entrance to the tube. He just wanted to get home.

He came in the door, practically holding his breath…and found Kili sitting in front of the fish, just watching it.

Fili put his keys on the table next to the door, making some noise so it wouldn’t startle the Irishman. “Were you stuck here all day?”

Kili looked over his shoulder. “Naw, I went down and paid some more ransom.” He didn’t feel the need to share the afternoon’s activities.

“How’s that going?” Fili never was good at small talk and he had no clue what to say.

A shrug and a bitter look was his answer. Two thousand pounds was a lot to pay off. Fili didn’t have much more than that in the bank himself. Moving from the other side of the world was expensive even if they’d paid some of the expenses.

“I’m sure he’ll give you time to pay it off.” Fili tried to sound positive. It was lost on Kili who winced and turned back to the fish.

“He got a name?”

“Who?” Fili asked, resisting the urge to look around.

“The fish. Does he have a name?” Kili tapped the side of the bowl gently.

Fili was about to say that his name was Reggie and then changed his mind. “No, I never got around to naming him. You can give him one if you like.”

Kili suddenly looked like a kid who had been handed a lolly. “You don’t mind?”

“I think he needs a name. I was too busy to do it, so maybe he’d like it if you gave him one.” Fili had to smile at the sudden enthusiasm.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Kili replied. “It needs to be a good ‘un that suits him.”

Fili laughed. “Yeah, you don’t want to rush into it. He does need a really good name. You think about it while I warm up the pizza.”

Kili looked up and Fili could see that he wanted to say something. Finally he looked at the fish and then back to Fili and said, “Did you know he needs a bigger bowl, like a tank and a heater and plants?”

Puzzled, Fili shook his head. “This is what they said to get for him.”

Seeing that Fili didn’t get mad, Kili felt bold enough to continue. “He’s a betta. They’re tropical fish and need a tank with a filter and a heater and some plants too. He won’t live very long in a bowl like this.”

Fili came over and peered at the fish. He’d bought it because it was his favorite shade of blue, as bright as a new crayon with long graceful fins. He had to admit that the fish seemed to spend most of his time floating at the surface and not being as pretty as he’d hoped when he bought him.

“Okay, let’s find out what he needs and get it. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable and I certainly don’t want him to die.” Fili looked from Kili to the fish and then back again. “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it.”

The brunet smiled shyly and looked at the betta. “He’ll be a lot prettier when he’s happy.”

 _So will you_ , Fili thought as he walked into the kitchen.

The Irishman was still in front of the fish when he was called to dinner. Fili had reheated the pizza in the oven, so that it was almost as good as fresh. There was salad to go with it and several bottles of dressing. The Kiwi came back in carrying a couple of beers and sat down at the table. He noticed that Kili had pushed the salad to one side.

“Not much for salad?”

Kili shook his head. “Never really had it. I don’t much like green food.”

Fili laughed. “I’ve never heard it referred to like that. It’s good for you and tastes pretty good with the right dressing.”

Kili looked doubtful.

“Try the honey and mustard. Just put a bit on your finger and taste it. If you don’t like it try another one. It’s kind of spicy sweet. It’s my favorite, but I like the ranch, too.”

Fili watched as Kili opened the yellow bottle and carefully wiped a bit onto his finger from the side of the bottle. He tasted it as gingerly as if it might be radioactive, but the result was a smile and a liberal administration to his salad.

The green food dilemma solved, Fili asked, “Any luck coming up with a name?”

Kili took a big bite of pizza and shrugged, avoiding the question.

Fili looked past him at the fish bowl. “I’ll bet you thought of a really good name. I should have named him long ago but I couldn’t think of anything and then I kinda forgot about it.”

“Skywalker.”

It was mumbled around the remains of the bite of pizza, but Fili heard it and repeated, “Skywalker?”

Kili nodded, peering out from under his curls as he waited to see Fili’s reaction.

The blond grinned. “Yeah. That’s perfect for a blue fish that’s a fighter. Skywalker it is.”

Kili had a hundred reasons for choosing the name, but he swallowed them back. There was no point in babbling like a little kid with a new pet. He looked past Fili to the betta and felt a little fish-sized warm spot in the center of his chest. Skywalker might not be his pet, but he’d named him and that counted for something.

He finished the slice of pizza and gestured toward the TV. “Want to watch something?” he asked Fili hopefully.

”Nope, we won’t have time. You and I need to find out what the fish needs and make a quick run out to Tesco. We also need some food and a few other things. It won’t take long.”

“You want me to go?” Kili was puzzled.

“Well, yeah…someone has to help me carry food for two and a bigger bowl. You want to eat it, you have to lug it.” Fili said offhandedly as he finished his beer.

Fili cleaned up in the kitchen while Kili hopped on the laptop and found information about bettas. He hoped Fili wouldn’t balk at the cost.

There was a Tesco a few minutes away by bus. The stop was only a two block walk, not nearly far enough for the Irishman’s nerves to settle. Kili fidgeted during the ride and Fili noticed that he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone. It didn’t help that he’d skinned his hair back into a messy bun and was wearing a black leather jacket. It wasn’t until an elderly woman sat next to him and started a conversation that he realized that Kili was shy. The woman, who introduced herself as Maggie, drew him into a conversation about her grandchildren. By the time they got to Tesco Kili was looking at pictures on her phone and seemed genuinely disappointed that the ride was over.

Fili watched as he bade goodbye to Maggie and slumped once more into his “don’t look at me” posture.

The store was huge and Kili welcomed the opportunity to grab the trolley so that he had something to do. Fili had his list and seemed to know the layout of the store, so Kili just followed him around, trying as usual not to pay too much attention to everything on the shelves. There was no point in looking at what you couldn’t have.

Fili resisted impulse buys; those were for people with cars. At some point he’d rent a Zipcar and make a real supply run. For now he needed supplies for Skywalker and food for the rest of the week, since he had only shopped for one the last time.

The pet section had all manner of crap, some of which he’d be outright embarrassed to take home to his dog or cat and the fish area wasn’t much better. Spongebob Squarepants tank décor gave him the chills. The poor fish would probably commit suicide if he had to live with the bucktoothed cartoon character or his buddies.

It was Kili who found what they needed. Fili found him staring forlornly at a 10-liter tank that looked as if it had everything but the heater.

He was concentrating so hard that he jumped a little when Fili asked, “Is that one good?”

Kili nodded. “It’s £35, though. It’s way too expensive.” He looked around at the row of completely inadequate tanks and shrugged. Most of the labeled as being for betta fish were tiny, cheap and looked more like torture chambers than fish tanks.

Fili’s eyes followed his and frowned when he saw the rest of the selection. “Why would you keep a fish in something the size of a Coke can?” he asked, poking a contraption that was made of four small compartments jammed together.

“So you can keep more of them, I guess,” came the soft reply.

“Yeah and keep buying more when they die.” Fili snorted as he picked up the box and set it in the trolley. “Fuck that and fuck people who do that!”

Kili frowned, looking like a worried teddy bear, but Fili smiled at him and said, “You get what your pet needs, or you don’t get a pet. I’m sorry he’s lived so long in that damned bowl. Skywalker deserves the best, doesn’t he?”

“Can you afford this?” Kili was still frowning, not sure of himself at all.

“Yeah, I can. I’d get it even if I couldn’t. Now go get a nice heater and we’ll get our own food. There’s a real fish store not too far from our flat. We’ll go on Saturday and get him some plants and shit to put in there to make it feel like home.”

Kili started looking at the heaters, but he was having trouble concentrating. “Fili had said “our” flat. _Ours_ , _as in his and mine_.” He puffed his cheeks and blew out, trying to focus. It wasn’t until Fili stopped poking the horrible fishbowl decorations and came to stand next to him that he was able to pull in a deep breath. He chose a small heater he remembered seeing mentioned on the betta website as being good.

Fili didn’t even look at the price.

“Now, let’s feed us.” He took off with Kili pushing the cart behind.

The Irishman’s frown had disappeared and he was starting to look around and take some interest in the store and the other customers. So this was what it was like to go in and buy what you needed without having to calculate every bloody penny. Maybe after he got done paying off the landlord he could save enough money to live like this, too.

Fili’s list wasn’t long, just staples and some fresh greens. He had been watching Kili and had noticed that the Irishman had come out of his shell a little. Never had he seen a grown man so closed off. He was shy with the old woman on the bus, but it seemed more like he was shut down. Fili had seen this with abused animals. They would pull away from everything as a way to protect themselves from the harshness of the world. He’d also seen them come out of their shells when it was safe. It took time, but it was always worth the wait.

Kili paused at the smoke shop, unsure about making a purchase. Fili smiled and commented, “You’d better pick something up now, it’s probably cheaper here.”

Kili chose the cheapest tobacco and some rolling papers. His roller was locked in his old flat, so he’d have to do them by hand. It couldn’t be helped, so he made his choice quickly and rejoined Fili. He thought they would check out, but instead the blond headed back into the depths of the store.

Fili stopped in the men’s clothing section and was looking at jeans. He turned to Kili, “What size do you wear?”

“Huh? Why?” came the surprised response.

“Because you can’t wear the same pair all the time. You need a second so you can swap off.”

Kili felt his face flaming with embarrassment. “I can’t afford…” he started to whisper.

It was Fili’s turn to be embarrassed. “I’m so sorry! I should have discussed this with you first. Sometimes I get an idea and I just go off halfcocked.” He looked at Kili and smiled gently. “We’re going to pick up a pair of jeans, some underwear, socks and a couple of T-shirts. Nothing expensive. You will pay me back after you get your stuff out of hock.”

“You’d do this?” Kili was mystified. “Why? How do you know you can trust me to pay you back?”

 _Because all my stuff was still in my flat when I got home today,_ was Fili’s immediate thought. His smile turned into a laugh. “One, because I’m a good judge of people. Two, I trust you with a key to my flat, why wouldn’t I trust you with a small loan? You can’t continue to wear my clothes, you’d look silly and you can’t go naked because you’ll catch cold.” _Not to mention he’d be arrested for indecent exposure…_

Fili cocked his head, blue eyes twinkling, but the Irishman shrugged and stared at the floor. He had no idea what to say or do. He knew that there were good people in the world, but in the last few years he’d run across so few that he’d forgotten how to act around them.

Fili sighed, the smile replaced by a look of genuine concern. “I’m sorry I sprung this on you, honest I am. I’m such a git sometimes. I don’t mean to make you feel like you owe me anything. I’m sure if things were reversed you’d do the same thing for me.”

Kili’s brain slid to a halt. If they switched places, would he do the same thing for Fili? He honestly didn’t know. He’d been taken advantage of too many times to trust anyone. He peeked at the blond out of the corner of his eye. Fili looked sad and stressed. He was just trying to be nice and Kili was being a dick about it.

“Yeah mate, I’d do the same thing,” he finally made himself say. He thought it lacked conviction, but at least he got the words out.

The blond brightened visibly, his smile returning, at least a little. “Let’s pick out something cheap, but decent. It’s no big deal, okay?”

Kili nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He picked up black jeans and held them up to see if they fit.

“They’ve got a fitting room,” Fili said over his shoulder. “Better try them on and save us a trip to return ‘em.” He whirled and lobbed something red at Kili, who snatched it deftly out of the air.

It was a red T-shirt and looked to be in his size. Fili grinned. “Red’s your color. Gotta have a red shirt and a black one to look dead sexy.”

Kili’s brows rose and he colored a little, but the shirt was cheap and the perfect blood-red color to set off his olive complexion and dark hair. What the hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t wear red, or black. He knew what he looked good in. He grabbed the shirt and jeans and headed for the fitting room.

Kili stood up and had to wiggle his hips to get the jeans on. They fit like a second skin, the bit of stretch in the fabric molding it them to his legs and ass. For the hell of it, he put on the black Tee and looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked fine.

Kili turned and peered over his shoulder.

He looked like walking sin. That is if walking sin came with its own fur coat

Kili laughed at the thought and pulled the shirt off, folding it back up. He slid the jeans off and folded them as well. Looking in the mirror again, for a second he saw the skinny hairy kid who was awkward and shy. He wasn’t so skinny anymore, but he was still hairy and he’d probably always be shy. Stripping the shirt off, he flexed a little, showing off hard-won pecs. Nope, definitely not skinny any more.

He came out of the dressing room and found Fili waiting for him. “Did the clothes fit?”

“Yeah, they look okay,” he replied, laying them in the basket. “Are we done here?

Fili nodded. “I can’t think of anything else we need, can you?”

Kili shook his head. They had far more than he’d bargained on as it was. He was relieved when they went through checkout and headed out the door. He had insisted on paying for his own tobacco and tucked the little bag protectively into his jacket pocket. They walked over the bus stop and Fili put his bags down.

“You have time for a smoke before the bus comes,” Fili said, checking his watch.

“You don’t mind?” Kili had to admit that he was dying for a cigarette and immediately pulled his purchase out and opened it.

“I don’t like the smell, so I never tried it. “ Fili grinned, dimples showing in the streetlight. “I guess if I get a habit I want it to smell great, taste better and not give me cancer.”

Kili was rolling a cigarette and his giggle made him lose his concentration. “Is there such a thing?”

“I don’t think so,” Fili replied sadly. “According to the experts even breathing gives you cancer now.”

Kili lit up and took a long satisfying drag. He started to relax as the nicotine hit his system. He hated smoking and had started because everyone else did it and it made him feel more adult. There were bad times when it gave him comfort, but now with the push on for everyone to quit it was harder to find a place in public to smoke. Moreover, not having smoked for a few days cleared his nose and he’d realized how bad the sweet old lady he’d talked to on the bus smelled.

Lugging the aquarium for two blocks proved to be somewhat problematic as the big bag was heavy and was determined to wind around the one with the potatoes. Kili had insisted on carrying the heavier bags. After the third time the aquarium made the acquaintance with his kneecap he regretted the offer.

They hauled the bags upstairs, unpacked, and Fili shooed Kili off to wash the betta tank out and get it started. The website said they’d need water conditioner and a bio something-or-other before they put him in it. Kili was like a mother hen fussing over getting the tank up and chatting happily, if somewhat randomly, about getting plants and some gravel for the bottom.

Finally it was all done and Fili turned to find Kili sitting in front of the fish bowl again. He stepped back so that he was out of the Irishman’s line of sight and watched him talk to the fish.

Kili was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. It was obvious that he’d led a rough life and had done things that Fili didn’t even want to imagine. He’d noticed the needle scars at the bend of the Irishman’s arm, but he’d also noted that they were old. There were also a few other scars, the most troubling of which were two that ran crosswise on the back of Kili’s right arm. They were defense wounds, something he’d learned on some TV show or other. The width of them showed that they had healed untreated.

He’d lived rough and should have been the kind of man Fili would cross the street to avoid. Somehow the life he’d led hadn’t scarred his heart; the way the knife had his arm. Under the heavy brows and mistrust was a very gentle caring man who was genuinely distressed that a little fish was not getting the proper care. The thought twisted Fili’s heart.

Fili had learned from rescuing dogs that an early loving start makes all the difference. You can survive abuse if at your core you know about love. Since Kili only talked about his mum, she must have been the one who held him close and taught him to care for others…even little fish.

 

* * *

 

Kili had gone into the loo in the Fili’s bedroom and came out wearing the red Tee, his damp curls framing his face. His brows were pulled down, taking his mood a couple of steps darker than what Fili had come to think of the handsomest resting bitch face he’d ever seen.

“I’m gonna be late,” he said without preamble.

Fili nodded. He reached into the desk and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Write down where you’re going and the guy’s phone number.”

The brows pulled down two more notches. “You’re not muh mam.”

“No, I’m your flatmate. Back at uni we always left a note where we were going in case we got wasted, or stupid, or both.” He looked up at Kili, blue eyes serious. “I won’t look at it unless you don’t come back.”

Kili fought a battle with himself. He hadn’t accounted for his whereabouts in years. No one knew and no one cared where he went or came back, or even if he came back. His kneejerk reaction was to tell Fili to fuck off. But he’d been to places that he’d prayed he’d return from, and so he stiffly bent down and scratched an address and phone number onto the pad.

“Don’t wait up.” His eyes were dark, the pupils invisible. His mood bordered on anger, but he didn’t know why.

“I won’t,” Fili said to his back as he strode out the door.

The blond heaved a sign. This was going to be a very weird arrangement. He got up and poured himself two fingers of scotch. If he kept feeling like this when Kili went to work, he was going to have to add liquor to the grocery list.


	8. Empty Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to work, such as it is. The past doesn't want to stay buried, but you do what you have to do and try to stay true to the man you want to be. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title is "Empty Sky" by Elton John 
> 
> (This story has gotten longer than I had intended and I find I'm spending far too much time trying to find the perfect song for a title. So this will be the last song-related chapter title unless I luck into one.)

 

Empty Sky 

 _And I looked high and saw the empty sky_  
_If I could only, I could only fly_  
_I'd drift with them in endless space  
_ _But no man flies from this place_

 

Kili shut the door, resisting the urge to slam it. He didn’t know why he felt angry, or upset, or whatever the fuck he was feeling. It had been a pleasant evening and he’d been enjoying himself.

He paused halfway down the steps.

He’d been enjoying himself.

He’d let his guard down, something he’d sworn never to do again. Tricks are just business and a rent boy doesn’t have friends. This was a temporary place to crash, nothing more. If he started to feel anything for Fili he knew it would just be snatched away from him. This wasn’t a movie. Pretty blond men with position and money didn’t fall in love with whores.

He didn’t know what Fili wanted, but he knew there was going to be a catch. There was always a catch.

He could still hear Dwalin’s voice, raspy with cigarettes, and his strong Glaswegian accent, saying it over and over as he nursed Kili through an overdose. He’d walked what seemed like miles with Dwalin holding him up, talking to him, keeping him talking until the poison worked its way out of his veins.

He’d been confused. “You’re my friend, Dwalin,” he’d slurred, trying to focus.

He remembered the shake of the long greying hair. “I ain’t your friend, Kili. I’m your mate. I help you and you help me, but we ain’t buddies, or pals or whatever the fuck they are calling it in this godforsaken country.

“Just fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, or they’ll fuck you over. They always fuck you over.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t,” Kili had protested.

“Make me choose between you and a fix and I’ll fuck you over in a heartbeat,” had been the quick response. Kili had looked up into reddened grey eyes and realized he was telling the truth. Junkies don’t have friends.

The Irishman stood still for a moment, resting his forehead against the cool wall. “They always fuck you over,” he whispered softly to himself.

The needle tracks on his arms were healed, but they’d left scars that sometimes twinged when it rained. He’d finally stopped using seventeen months ago when he was called to identify Dwalin. The tall Scotsman had never been able to kick heroin and it had finally kicked him into an early grave.

Kili had stood in the chilly room looking down at the pale drawn face, his heart breaking that he would never hear that booming laugh, or be cursed out again for being a “fucking idiot mick.” Dwalin had tried to get off of “kit” many times and Kili had sat with him while he toughed out the withdrawal, but he’d always gone back.

“I’m weak,” he’d said by way of excuse. “Fit for nothing but to shoot up smack and fuck losers.”

It was worse that he’d believed it, but he’d also always believed Kili was better than that. “You got an education. You can act. You got a face that breaks hearts,” Dwalin had said so many times it was like a mantra. “You can get out and make somethin’ o’yourself. Me, I’m so ugly my own mum couldn’t stand me. I got nothin’.”

He always said it when he was drunk or coming down off a high and feeling self-pity, but he meant every word. “You let that prick get you hooked, but you don’t have to end up like him, or me. You can kick it. You got the balls even if you don’t know it.”

But it wasn’t until he’d gone to Dwalin’s funeral, such as it was with only himself and a bored priest in attendance, that he’d grown the balls. Kili didn’t want to end up like Dwalin, dying strung out and alone in a deserted building. Seeing the Scotsman’s body had scared him so badly he’d rushed to the loo and thrown up so hard he ended up on his knees in the stall.

He’d vowed then and there to get help and get clean. The clinic he went to helped, but what helped most were his memories of Dwalin, who was more of a friend than he ever knew. He’d get clean for Dwalin and for his mam; the two people who had believed in him no matter what.

Kili increased his stride down the pavement. He was headed for his job. Nothing more. He was going to get his property back. After that he’d decide what to do next and where to go. Some place far away would be good. Some place where they didn’t know what he was and what he did.

Some place far away where it was beautiful and no one knew him.

 

* * *

 

Fili sat up watching the TV until he was finally sleepy. He supposed that the whiskey had helped more than the reruns of Dr. Who.

He rinsed the glass and put it in the dishwasher then headed to the loo. The shower felt good, the massage head pounding against the tight muscles in his shoulders. He hadn’t realized until now how tense he was.

The night had been fun. It had its small speed bumps, such as Kili being reluctant to let him buy him the bare minimum of clothes. He knew without question the Irishman would pay him back. He’d asked for the receipt the moment it was printed and put it in his battered wallet, shoving it into his pocket almost angrily.

It was only when Kili was focused on Skywalker that the walls came down a little and Fili got glimpses of the gentle man who cared about a fish that wasn’t even his own. He was a bit ashamed that he had rescued dogs and cats but hadn’t given a single thought to the needs of the pretty little blue fish he’d bought on a whim. He’d been too busy focusing on how different and lonely life was in London. It took Kili to bring him back to reality, harsh as it may be. Now if he could only stop himself from thinking about the perfect arse in the tight jeans and focus more on the good heart located some 60 centimeters north.

Fili climbed into bed, but sleep didn’t come. He had so little experience with romance that he had no way of telling if he had a crush on Kili, if he was falling in love, or if it was just hormones. He’d invited the Irishman to stay on a whim, one that could have bitten him severely in the ass. He was more than lucky that Kili seemed to be a decent person at heart.

The needle tracks on Kili’s arms bothered him. They were faint and scarred over, but they showed he’d been into something that Fili couldn’t even begin to understand. That they only remained as tiny white puckers showed that the Irishman had kicked it and stayed clean. But taking an addict, even an ex-one, into your home was just stupid. What if he relapsed?

But what if he didn’t?

The only thing Fili could relate it to was an older brindle pit bull he’d found when he was a teen. The dog had obviously been abused and the scars he bore showed he probably had been forced to fight. Mum hadn’t wanted a pit bull in the house and was terrified that Fili would be attacked. Over her protests, he’d kept the dog in the garage and named him Ben because that sounded like a respectable name.

Ben was suspicious at first, shying away from Fili and refusing to accept treats unless they were thrown to him. But little by little he learned to trust. Soon he was greeting Fili with tail wags and a smile. He not only tolerated being petted, he started to actively demand it, flipping his head under Fili’s hand until the silly human got the idea. He had no interest in the cat and ignored the yappy little terrier mix Fili had brought home the year before.

Six months in, he’d given Fili heart failure by slipping his collar one day and vanishing. He’d raced around calling, thinking Ben had run away. He was on his way out of the yard to start searching when his mum had called him back. She opened the door and pointed toward the living room.

There, on the sofa, Ben had made himself a nest amid the pillows, comfortably sharing space with Quasi, the old Persian cat Fili had dragged home when he was seven.

Ben looking insufferably pleased with himself. He knew where he belonged; it was just a matter of getting the chance to show these humans where it was. The cat stretched and snuggled closer to Ben’s warmth as if giving his approval. Fili looked at his mum and was surprised that she had tears in her eyes in spite of her smile.

That was the day he lost Ben.

Mum tried to pretend that she had never really been afraid of him, or that she didn’t fear pit bulls. As she pointed out many times after; “It’s not the breed that matters, it’s the personality. When he’d moved out, Ben stayed behind. He was Mum’s dog and even though it stung his heart a little, Fili was glad that the dog had finally found his place.

Kili certainly wasn’t a pit bull, but he was like that old abused dog in many ways. He’d had a life forced on him that he never would have chosen and did what he had to do to survive it. He had the scars and the distrust of everyone to prove it. It would take time to break down those walls.

Fili turned over and pulled the blankets up. He didn’t know if he had time, or if he wanted to take on someone like Kili. It wasn’t like bringing home a stray dog or cat. This was much more serious and maybe much more dangerous. Trying not to think about it, Fili drifted off to dream of searching for someone he could never quite find.

 

* * *

 

The trick was easy. Just another bloke in the closet who was almost desperate to get his end away with another man. He loved Kili’s sleek build and the hair on his body, particularly on his chest. The Irishman supposed he was a nice man, probably even a good man, but one who for reasons of his own didn’t feel he could be who he was.

It was sad in a way, but it was also easy money. Ron, as he called himself, wanted no connection except Kili’s body. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t ask questions, he just wanted to satisfy his desires and get the hell out of the hotel room.

There was no second round, no tip, no wanting to reschedule a return meet. It was only 150 pounds, less his bus fare. Ordinarily that would be good money for an hour’s work, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Not by a long shot. He still owed so much and had so little time to pay.

Kili lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out angrily. He resented spending the money on the tobacco and rolling papers. He resented any addiction and was pissed off that he still had to deal with this one. He took another drag and resisted the urge to throw it down and grind it to dust beneath his heel. That would be a waste of money.

He looked up and saw a pub, its neon sign shining like a beacon. If he was going to waste money, he might as well waste a little more on a pint before catching the last bus back…home.

The pub was more upscale than he’d expected, all walnut and brass, more like a British gentleman’s club than the pub the sign advertised. The signs advertised Harp and Guinness as well as some of the popular craft beer and, of course, Jameson and Bushmills.

A bartender with a Galway accent slid a coaster in front of him and smiled professionally. “What’ll ya have?”

“Whatever’s on tap,” Kili replied, not returning the smile.

“Not planning to bust the bank tonight?” came the wry comment as his pint was set in front of him.

A smile crept around the corners of his mouth. “Not tonight. I just need to sit a minute and then get on home.”

He took a long pull of the beer. It wasn’t half bad for being the house brand. He was about to take another swallow when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. It slid along the back of his neck, stopping to toy with this hair.

He turned and looked into very blue eyes. They were like twin sapphires, much too brilliant to be real. Expensive colored contacts went with the rest of her. Hair dark and shiny, razor cut by a top stylist into pixie bangs that fell into an ebony sweep that was longer on one side than the other. She teased at the shoulder seam of his jacket with long lacquered nails done in deep blood red that matched her lipstick. Her nails were lined with a swirl of tiny brilliants that may or may not be diamonds. They matched the shimmering studs in her ears. He counted seven on the short side. each smaller than the one before it.

“You’re too pretty to be alone.” Her voice was a purr that carried the promise of sin.

Kili took another swallow and set the glass down. “Don’t you think that line would work better on one of the rich college boys?” He gestured toward a table a chavs who were rowdily spending Daddy’s money.

“But I don’t like boys.” Her protest was soft, the pitch modulated. “I like _you_.”

He laughed, dark eyes twinkling. He knew how to turn it on…and then turn it back off again. Cocking his head he pulled his heavy brows down into a scowl that backed up most people. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. You are lovely, but I don’t swing that way.”

Turning back to his beer, he picked up his glass again, when her delicate hand rested on the back of his. “Don’t be so hasty, love.” She ran the tip of a very pink tongue over her teeth as she smiled at him. Turning her head, she looked at a man lounging in a shadowed u-shaped booth. He nodded.

She turned back to Kili. “ _We_ , could make it worth your while.”

“What makes you think I’m selling my time?” Kili asked coolly. He tried to look at the man in the booth out of the corner of his eye, but the pub was too dark and all the Irishman could make out was that he had long blond hair.

“Oh, I know you do,” she purred. “And I know you aren’t cheap.”

“Now, how would you know that?” His voice was low and smooth, the roughness of the streets slipping into a more cultured tone. He looked at her, eyes taking in her beauty, searching for clues as to how she knew him.

She smiled and he would not have been surprised to see fangs nestled amid her shining white teeth. “I,” she whispered, “have a very good friend who shares my taste in pleasures.” She drew the sibilants in the word out, making it sound both sexy and eerily snake-like. “And _he_ knows everything.”

Kili’s brows drew down even farther. She pointed a long nail at the shadowed booth. “He knows you and said you are worth every pound you charge.”

Kili was getting interested. “And does your friend have a name?”

She shrugged and her shoulders rolled sensuously under the black silk blouse. “He might. He would prefer it if you joined him in the booth. Talking about money is so crass and doing it at a bar is beneath us both.”

He chuckled. “Oh is it? You are trying to seduce me, then offer to buy me, but you think the discussion of price is rude.”

She stood and he realized that, in spite of her stiletto heels, she was tiny, nearly as elven as her hairstyle. She licked her lips again. “Let us repair to the booth where we will all be more comfortable.”

She walked away, her hips swaying with each step. She stopped and looked back at him. Against his better judgment, he slid off the barstool and followed her across the room.

She slid into the booth and motioned for him to join her. Kili stood before the booth for a moment, sharp eyes piercing the shadows. The blond man leaned forward into the light and smiled.

He was tall and, frankly, gorgeous, with platinum hair that swept casually over his brow before falling to his broad shoulders. He was wearing a designer shirt in a dark plum that shaded to black in the shadows. He would definitely remember a man who looked like this. That he didn’t set internal alarms off, nearly drowning out the greeting.

“Hello, Kili, It’s been a long time.” He gave the Irishman a predatory smile. “I can see that you do not remember me.” His voice had the same purr as the woman’s, only its tone was deeper, the timbre richer.

“What do you want?” Kili’s voice was sharp, the question biting. He had no idea who the man was, but it was obvious that the slick blond knew him.

“What I always want, my dear boy. Pleasure.” The reply was as smooth as silk, the smile equally so. “So you don’t remember me.” His voice dropped an octave and his lower lip came out feigning a pout. “I suppose I should be absolutely crushed, but it was years ago and you have, shall we say, grown.”

“What do you want?” Kili repeated, his impatience showing in his voice.

“Caroline dragged me in here because her feet hurt. I thought about chastising her for the inconvenience, but then I saw you.” He smiled and somehow it seemed more genuine this time.

“It took me some time to remember where I had seen you and then I remembered much, much more. You were so delicious when you were…what…seventeen, or was it eighteen…all sleek and as pretty as a girl with that long hair and even longer body.” He shifted position languidly. “As I recall you couldn’t get enough or me or what I brought with me.”

Kili slid into the booth opposite him and leaned forward, his voice hissing between his teeth. “I’m not eighteen anymore and I don’t give it away for a handful of pills or a line of snow. I’m a businessman and I have a living to make.”

“Is that so?” One perfect brow arched coyly. “So you have officially become a whore.”

The smile wasn’t warm. “It’s legal. I pay taxes and I’m nobody’s whore.” Kili leaned forward a little, his voice sharpening. “I’m a businessman and my time is no longer free.”

The blond chuckled. “Whatever you wish to believe, my boy. You weren’t free the last time, not with the amount of coke you managed to put up your nose, but it was a party favor, so you had a right to take it and you gave it back so prettily.”

Kili’s brows were furrowed, his face stony and dark. “Did you call me over here to insult me? I got a bus to catch, so I’ll be going now.”

“Not so fast, pretty one.” The man reached out and laid his hand atop Kili’s. “Since I can’t pay you with ‘snow’ as you so euphemistically call it, let us make a straight up business deal.”

“I get 150 an hour,” Kili said coldly. He didn’t like this man, or his companion, but money was money and he’d been with others he didn’t like. It was just business.

The blond’s laugh rang out. “You, my boy, are selling yourself far too cheaply.” He leaned forward, colorless eyes serious. “A thousand for the rest of the night. For that you will do whatever Caroline and I tell you to do.”

Kili pulled his hand away. “As I said, I got a bus to catch.”

“My dear boy, I just want to enjoy you in every way possible, as does Caroline. We are into more unusual things, but nothing that would bring harm to you.” His voice dropped and he slid an arm around the woman. “You wouldn’t be adverse to fucking the beautiful Caroline, now, would you? She does look magnificent in latex.”

“Condoms,” Kili said abruptly. “And no drugs.”

“Of course.” The smile was warm, but didn’t reach the man’s eyes. “We have no idea where you have been, considering your occupation. And you are free to indulge or not as you choose, but you wouldn’t begrudge your employer a little extra stimulation, now would you?”

Kili nodded once. “Whatever.”

“Ah, now that this is settled, we can get on with it.” He turned to the woman. “Caroline, I believe our cold friend could use some warming up.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled, her sharp teeth making it look more predatory than anything else. With a dancer’s grace, she moved from her side of the booth to Kili’s and slid toward him. She reached him and twisted, sliding her leg over his so that she could straddle him. Her lips found his, her tongue darting out to lick and tease.

She nibbled his lips and slowly he opened his mouth to give her entrance. She delicately tasted the inside of his mouth, touching lightly and pulling away, one hand wound in the curls at the base of his neck, the other slipping up under his T-shirt to scratch gently, her long nails teasing his nipples.

Even though he wasn’t into women he found her ministrations erotic and he could feel himself become erect. Caroline noted it as well and ground herself down, rocking slightly over the bulge that was growing in his jeans. She might not have the right equipment, but her technique was faultless and he could feel the heat rise. When the man slid over next to him and reached down between his legs to squeeze him, Kili forgot about his dislike for the couple and let his libido take over.

The thousand would get back his belongings with some left over. Her sharp teeth nipped at his neck followed by her tongue teasing that sensitive place just behind his ear.

Perhaps the rest of the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

 


	9. Take it to the Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when you're looking for your freedom  
> (Nobody seems to care)  
> And you can't find the door  
> (Can't find it anywhere)
> 
> When there's nothing to believe in  
> Still you're coming back, you're running back  
> You're coming back for more
> 
> So put me on a highway  
> And show me a sign  
> And take it to the limit one more time
> 
>  
> 
> "Take it to the Limit" - The Eagles

 

 _So put me on a highway  
_ _And show me a sign  
_ _And take it to the limit one more time_

 

Consciousness came slowly, a millimeter at a time. Once he rose to the level of being aware that he had a body, he wished that he could sink back down into the dark oblivion he’d just clawed his way out of.

He hurt.

He felt like someone had poured concrete over him. He was weighed down and immobile.

He pried his eyes open and blinked. The room was dark, but there was light coming in through a crack in the drapery. It wasn’t the right color for sunlight. It was red.

He was in hell.

He’d finally made the descent.

Strung out. Fucked out. Sprawled facedown on a bed in hell.

If breathing hadn’t hurt he would have chuckled.

“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph,” he moaned to himself as he tried to move.

The room was silent; the only sounds were Kili’s grunts and moans as he turned over and sat up. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this bad. His head was hammering and his stomach felt both incredibly empty and bloated at the same time.

He heaved to a sitting position and blinked as he swayed, the darkened room finally coming into focus. Bracing himself with one arm, he scrubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. The action brought a grunt of pain as he dug into the eye that refused to focus and realized that it was because it was almost swollen shut.

“Fuck!” There was no power behind the curse. He felt completely drained as if all the light and joy in the world had been drained and the only thing left was gray and nothingness.

He swore again, this time louder. He recognized what he was feeling. The tart with the cart had run over him and then backed up. Sweet Molly Malone as Kili used to refer to ecstasy. It was just plain Molly here in London, but with or without the cart she packed quite a punch.

He couldn’t remember the high now that he’d crashed after the drug had sucked the last of the dopamine out of his brain. It had undoubtedly been slipped to him in one of the glasses of expensive champagne he’d too readily downed trying to relax. While it brought some blessed loss of memory, it wasn’t this bad before. The blond giant had thrown in a little something extra for shits and giggles and Kili had taken it, probably willingly by that time. Shit, he was a stupid bastard.

Kili took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up. He’d spotted a dim light and knew it was in the bathroom of whatever hotel they’d taken him to. He couldn’t fucking remember that either.

He found the light and it blinded his one good eye. Swearing under his breath, he maneuvered to the loo and sat down. He was too unsteady to stand up and didn’t feel like pissing on his own feet.

He sat there feeling nauseated, his abdominal muscles cramping in waves. He used to have a love affair going with Molly. She took him where life couldn’t, where it was warm and people loved him. The crashes got steadily worse and he would go off it for months, but invariably when the world turned black he’d go and find her again. He’d permanently broken up with her the same time he kicked heroin, and the way he felt now reminded him why she was a shitty date.

Rising from the loo, Kili went over to wash his face and hands. He turned on the tap and looked up into the mirror. He froze, staring in disbelief. He was a mass of bruises, and his left eye was discolored and swollen. There were bite marks all over his shoulders and chest, descending down across his abdomen. He bent to look and was relieved to see that the important parts were intact, although his thighs hadn’t escaped Caroline’s sharp teeth. Some the bites had drawn blood and all were deep enough to have left marks.

Kili turned as far as he could and looked at his back, seeing more bite marks interwoven with scratches. Some of those had gone deep, marking his skin with long stripes dotted with drops of dried blood. He looked like he’d fucked a tiger and maybe he had. He hadn’t felt the abuse while it was happening, but it was making itself known now with stabs and tingles.

Gripping the edge of the counter, he dug in his fingers and took deep breaths to stave off the panic that threatened to wash over him. It was half Molly and half pure fear that he been stiffed while being left unable to work until he healed. Thanks to the National Health Service, he was on a daily dose of Truvada, greatly reducing the likelihood of being infected if the bites had exposed him to HIV. It would still mean worry and regular testing until he was clear, though.

Kili took another breath and then went to look for a light switch and his clothes. He found both nearly at the same time. He was shaking when he pulled his wallet out of his pants and opened it. He was so relieved at finding twenty fifty-pound notes along with the 150 from Ron that he almost wept.

This would do it. He was going to march in and hand over the last of the back rent. Whatever it cost him it was worth it. He didn’t have many possessions, but they were all he had. All of his past worth remembering was in that shabby flat.

Putting the wallet back, he headed for the loo and turned on the shower. He had to get his shit together and make a trip to Lewisham. He could pay the landlord off and have some left over. It made the ache in his body almost tolerable.

The shower hurt like a bitch and so did dressing. It didn’t help that all of the joy that had ever been had been sucked out of the world. All Kili wanted to do was to crawl into the bed and sleep until the down that inevitably followed the ecstasy high wore off. He couldn’t sleep, though. He had to get up, get to the train station, and get to Lewisham, that was all that was on his mind. He had to stay focused hard as it was.

He left the empty hotel room, avoided looking at the poshness of the corridor and lobby. The doorman sneered at him but he didn’t care. He flipped the guy a middle finger in response, but wasn’t feeling good enough to gain any satisfaction from it.

What puzzled him though was that it was still dark. Could this all have happened in only the few hours before dawn?

 

* * *

 

The train ride added to the nightmare. Kili had asked the time of one of the few passengers who wasn’t dozing and realized that it was the middle of the night, which meant he had been out for twenty-four hours. He sat, raking his fingers nervously through his hair, his nails digging into his scalp. This wasn’t going to go well, but at least he had the ransom in his wallet, small comfort that it was.

The landlord answered Kili’s pounding. “Who the fuck!” he yelled as he swung the door open. He was wearing only an open plaid robe and yellowed briefs that might have been white a decade ago.

Kili stood there with a fistful of pound notes. “Here’s yer money – gimme me stuff.”

The old man looked astonished, but not so much that he didn’t grab the money and count it.

“It’s all there,” Kili said. His voice was low and rough.

The landlord looked at Kili’s eye and for a moment his face softened. “Looks like you worked hard for it.”

Kili nodded once. “Never mind, just give me the key.”

“Can’t,” was the reply.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

The landlord shrugged and tried not to meet Kili’s eyes. Life had hardened him, but not so much that he didn’t feel a brief moment of pity for the young man in front of him. “I rented the room yesterday. You didn’t come back and they had the full price up front.”

“Whatdaya mean I didn’t come back. I paid you yesterday!” Kili snarled.

“What are you on, boy? I ain’t see you for two fucking days. I can’t hold a room in the hope someone comes back and pays more than the shit in it is worth. That ain’t common sense.”

“It was everything I had,” Kili replied softly. He should have been mad. He wanted to be mad, but it felt like his legs had been kicked from under him and he had no strength. “I ain’t got nothing now.”

In an instant, he’d been shoved back through time to being the teen who had come home to an empty apartment with rent due and no parent to help pay it.

The old man’s face fell. “Shit. I’m sorry. I really am. Look, it’s really late and I can’t do anything, but I got a torch you can use. I think they threw most of your stuff away in the bin.”

He left Kili standing in the hall looking as if he were going to cry. In minutes he returned and handed him a clean bin bag and a battered torch. He also held out a fifty-pound note.

“Take it, boy. I ain’t heartless.” He pressed the bill into Kili’s hand. “I’ll ask ‘em what they did with your kit tomorrow. I’ll get as much back as I can.”

Kili made no motion to take the offered supplies, or cash. He just stood there looking numb. For the first time in many years, the old man felt sorry for someone. He looked at Kili’s somber face. He picked up the Irishman’s hand and shoved the money into it. “I ain’t likely to go to heaven, but maybe this’ll make it a little easier on me in hell. Get out of here, boy, and come back in a couple’a days.”

After the door shut, Kili shoved the money into his pocket and stood looking at the closed door, trying to collect his thoughts. It was like trying to herd cats. Molly played with your memory. How many hits of it did they give him? He didn’t even know what goddamn day it was. He looked at his watch, but couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. Fuck Molly. She was one shit date!

He went to the back of the building, the dark almost palpable, the torch doing little to cut even a small path. There had been a bit of rain while he was dancing with Molly and Caroline and her sharp teeth. The alley was dank with it and the bags were dotted with moisture, the ones on the ground sitting forlornly in small puddles.

Fortunately this area of Lewisham didn’t have the best rubbish pick up and the bin was nearly full. At least that meant that he didn’t have to crawl too far into it to get to the bags. But every bag looked alike in the dark, the weak torch not being particularly helpful. He started with the bags on top and quickly realized that they had not been any more careful throwing things away than he would have been. Clothes were mixed in with the rotting contents of his fridge.

He dragged two of the bags over to the light at the back of the tavern that was two doors down. Fortunately the cold kept everyone inside and he was not disturbed as he upended the bags and went through them.

The first one was pure trash and not his. The second held two pairs of jeans, a pair of old joggers that were soaked with coffee grounds and some T-shirts and underwear that were stuck together with what smelled like spoiled milk. He gagged and shoved them into the clean bag and then went back to try to find more of his things.

By the third trip, his teeth were chattering so hard that it hurt and his hands were stiff from the cold and wet. He kept digging until he found what he was looking for -- the shoebox that contained the only photos he had of his mam and dad. It was soggy and sticky with what smelled like old orange juice. Hesitantly he pried the box open and found that the sticky was just on the outside. The inside just seemed to be wet from the rain, but it didn’t matter…the photos were all stuck together.

They were ruined.

It was too much to bear. He stood there in the dark with the dim torch laying on the pavement next to him, the wad of photos in his hand, and wept.

 

 

* * *

 

Fili heard the door of the flat open. He looked at the clock. It was 3am.

Suddenly, he was completely awake. Kili had been gone for more than 48 hours and hadn’t answered a single message that Fili had left either by voice or text. He’d never been so worried about anyone in his life.

He launched to his feet, grabbed the T-shirt he’d worn yesterday and burst out of the bedroom with enough vigor to scare Kili, who dropped the bin bag he was carrying. It thudded soggily to the floor and he made no attempt to pick it up.

Kili looked like death had taken a shot and then spat him back out. Fili took a step toward him. “Where have you been and what’s in there?” He didn’t mean to should quite so sharp and he wasn’t prepared for the hopeless look the Irishman gave him.

“That’s me stuff,” Kili replied softly, ignoring the first question. “I was too late.”

Fili came closer and saw the swollen eye and the filth on Kili’s clothes. He couldn’t imagine what he’d been through or how he got back home. He’d been so worried that, dumpster ooze or not, he was tempted to throw his arms around the dejected Irishman and never let go.

Instead, he went full Kiwi and simply said, “You look like hell.”

Kili looked at him, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “No shit.”

“I think shit might be the only thing you don’t have on you. Leave the bag by the door and we’ll sort it tomorrow,” Fili said gesturing in the hope that moving the stench closer to the door would help.

Kili dragged it over and set it down, but he didn’t let go of the box under his arm. He tried to hold onto it while he shrugged his jacket off.

Fili came over and reached out to take it, but Kili twisted away protectively.

“I’m not trying to steal it,” Fili said, stepping away. His feelings were hurt and it showed on his face.

“Sorry,” Kili mumbled. “It’s what’s left of me pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“Yeah, me mam and da and gran too. They got wet. I think they’re ruined, but I’m not ready to chuck ‘em yet.”

“Jesus, I guess not. Maybe they can be fixed,” Fili replied quietly.

Kili shook his head. “Naw, don’t be daft, they’re gone.” Sadly, he handed Fili the box. “Careful, it’s fair fallin’ apart.” The grim line of his lips said that it probably didn’t matter anyway.

Fili carefully carried the box to the kitchen and set it gently on the counter. Turning to Kili, who’d followed him, he said, “Go take a shower and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” he replied, too exhausted to argue that he didn’t need any more help from anyone. He was defeated and nothing mattered. Kili took another look at the shoebox and headed for the loo.

While Kili was showering Fili made him a meatloaf sandwich and set it on the counter. He then headed for his computer and started doing searches for photo restoration.

He was still working and printing when Kili came back out wearing nothing but a towel. Fili turned around and completely forgot what he was going to say when he aw the marks covering Kili’s body. “Jesus Christ, did you fuck a wild cat?”

“Something like that,” the Irishman replied without humor. He tried not to look at the horror that showed plainly on Fili’s face. He knew how he looked and it was only half as bad as he felt. He had two paracetamol in his hand and washed them down with the glass of milk that the blond had set out. The sandwich made his stomach roil, but he knew he’d feel better once he’d tucked it away.

He wandered over to where Fili was staring at the computer screen and tried to make sense of it, but his head was spinning. He took a little step sideways to balance himself and instantly Fili was at his side. Slipping an arm around Kili, he turned the Irishman around and steered him to his bedroom. “Get some sleep, you’re practically out on your feet. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”

Kili nodded and allowed himself to be put to bed. He hadn’t been tucked in since he was a lad and it felt both strange and comforting to have someone pull the covers up and wish him sweet dreams. He wasn’t likely to have them, but a little part of him appreciated the thought.

Fili resisted the urge to lay a kiss on the Irishman’s forehead. He looked so young and so utterly broken that it wasn’t desire that prompted it. The rescuer in Fili roared to the surface and had to be squashed down. You didn’t rescue adult men. People who tried usually failed. Unlike animals, humans had to rescue themselves. All Fili could do was provide a safe space and hope that Kili was up to the work ahead.

 


	10. Fly With A Broken Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eileen Aroon_
> 
>  
> 
> _I know a valley fair, Eileen Aroon_  
>  I know a cottage there, Eileen Aroon  
> Far in the valley shade I know a tender maid  
> Flow'r of the hazel glade, Eileen Aroon 
> 
>  
> 
> _Who in the song so sweet, Eileen Aroon_  
>  Who in the dance so fleet, Eileen Aroon  
> Dear are her charms to me, dearer her laughter free  
> Dearest her constancy, Eileen Aroon 
> 
>  
> 
> _Were she no longer true, Eileen Aroon_  
>  What would her lover do, Eileen Aroon  
> Fly with a broken chain, far o'er the sounding main  
> Never to love again, Eileen Aroon 
> 
>  
> 
> _Youth will in time decay, Eileen Aroon_  
>  Beauty must fade away, Eileen Aroon  
> Castles are sacked in war, chieftains are scattered far  
> Truth is a fixed star, Eileen Aroon

 

After Kili was tucked in (did he really just tuck an adult man into bed?) Fili walked across the living room and poured himself two fingers of scotch, neat. Looking over at Skywalker’s tank he lifted the glass.

“I’d share it with you, but somehow I don’t think it would quite work.” He took a big swallow and coughed. “Shit, I’m not any better at drinking than I am at staying out of other people’s business.”

Fili didn’t even want to think about what Kili had gone through. Obviously a date…trick (?) gone wrong and then the loss of everything he owned, followed by a train or bus ride holding a bin bag that stunk as badly as he did. The Irishman was always clean and took pains with his appearance, so the climb into the rubbish bin was the final insult.

He’d wanted to put salve on the scratches and bites on Kili’s back, but hadn’t been able to think of a way to ask. There was so much distance between them, partly because they were still strangers to one another and partly Kili holding the world at arm’s length. You could hardly blame him when the world had offered nothing but pain and loneliness.

Heaving a sigh, he put the tumbler down, grabbed a pair of thin latex gloves and headed for Kili’s box of photos.

The first thing he found was a wad of sodden tissues with something hard in the center. He quickly peeled the paper away to find a golden locket on a broken chain. He wiped it dry and then held his breath as he opened it.

It clicked open and he breathed out as he saw that the tissue had held off the water and only a band around the inside of the locket frame was wet. Wiping it away quickly he looked at the photo within. It was of a handsome man with red hair and eyes that would have been blue when the photo was new. He had Kili’s curls, one of which was tucked into the locket, obscuring the bottom of the photo. No wonder Kili had been so desperate to get his belongings back. He set it gently on a kitchen towel and turned to the rest of the contents of the box.

He had never restored photos, but he knew where to go for the information. He had the printed copies in his hand and set them where he could refer to them instantly if necessary.

The first thing he did was sort through the box looking for negatives. He found two strips, rinsed them in cool water, and jury-rigged a way to hang them so that they could air dry. Gingerly, he took the sodden mass out and set it on the counter while he filled the sink full of room temperature water.

To his surprise he found that a number of photos in the center of the pile were not wet and separated easily with only their edges adhering. He scrutinized one that showed a tiny slender woman with her arm around a small boy with dark curly hair.

The photo was faded, the family resemblance was striking. Kili’s mam had been a beauty when she was young. She was smiling at the person taking the photo, so it was probably his father. Fili hoped he could save a photo of Kili’s da too. At least if the rest of the photos were a total loss he would have this one.

Fili carefully cleaned the edges of the photographs he’d peeled loose and then immersed the two sodden piles in the water, letting them soak while he gentle swished the water to clean them. He emptied the sink and filled it again and again until the water was clear.

Lifting the photos out, he set them on a towel and gently patted them dry. Being very careful not to touch the image itself, gently started to peel them apart. They weren’t as bad as he feared. The dirt was only on one side and the gunk on the outside of the box barely touched the edge of the closest photo.

It was painstaking work to separate them and required a second soaking for the outmost layers. Most of them were salvageable. He found a photo of Kili’s parents taken by a photographer. Sadly, it had a crease down the center that had cracked the image, but that was fixable. Fili smiled to himself. That one was very very fixable.

He set the photo of the Kildares on a thickness of kitchen towels and looked at it, seeing Kili in both his parents. He had his father’s height and curly hair. His coloring and eyes were from his mum; dark with a touch of good Irish whiskey, but his looks he got from both of them. Fili didn’t think he’d ever seen a more handsome couple. Their love for each other shone even in a rather stiffly posed photo with a stock backdrop. They’d loved each other and he knew they’d loved their son. That he’d fallen on such hard times must be a burden for them, wherever they were. He dabbed at a corner that was threatening to curl and went to get his camera.

The other photo that caught his eye was one of what had to be Kili’s mam and grandmother. The two women were so much alike with their dark hair and eyes. They both had Kili’s smile so it was evident who he’d inherited that megawatt grin from. It had a Rorschach of water damage that spread over the bottom half, fading the picture and turning it into bad pop art.

There were photos of Kili’s childhood, always either him alone, or of him and his mam. It was obvious that his father was the photographer and made Fili doubly glad that he’d been able to salvage the locket. It might be the only photo of Kili’s da that he had.

Bless the people online who had provided such good information to help people salvage their photos from floods and the like. They’d recommended that new shots be taken of wet clean photos in case drying further compromised them. By now the entire kitchen was covered in damp photographs as was the dining room table and, his desk and the top of the entertainment unit. Only Skywalker’s little table had been spared. The fish was very interested in what Fili was doing and he felt a pang that he’d never noticed that a fish could be smart enough to have an interest outside of his tank.

Fili paused as he walked by the tank. “It's nearly noon and I hope your daddy appreciates that I’m the fucking walking dead.”

“What about the ‘walking dead’?” a muzzy voice behind him asked.

Fili whirled to find Kili standing in the middle of the living room with a puzzled look on his face. He swept an arm in an arc. “What’s all this?”

Taking a couple of steps closer to the table Kili peered down and blinked. He didn’t move for a long moment. “Are these me photos?”

Fili swallowed hard, not sure what reaction to expect. “Uh…yeah. I’m working on them. Some of the oldest ones might not make it, but I think I can salvage most of them.”

The Irishman turned slowly and looked at Fili as if he had sprouted a second head. “You did this for me?”

Fili nodded. “I thought I might be able to help a bit. I’m no pro at this, but everything I read online said you had to work on them as soon as you could.” His voice trailed off into unsurety.

Kili’s heavy brows pulled down. “You should be at work.”

Fili shrugged. “I called in. This was more important.”

“You lost a day of work to fix me photos…” Kili said it softly, wonder and puzzlement showing on his face. “You didn’t have to go and do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” He gave Kili a hesitant smile. “You’re my friend and you needed help.”

“We’re friends?” Kili asked. His brain was slowly replenishing the dopamine that the ecstasy had sucked dry. A spark of hope shone in his one good eye.

“Of course we are,” Fili replied smiling. “We share a flat and we share joint custody of a fish. If that doesn’t make us friends, I don’t know what does.”

The Irishman looked doubtful. “I’ve not had much luck with friends.”

The smile faded. “Me either, but I’m hoping that’s going to change.”

Kili looked at him, face bruised, eye swollen, hair looking as if he’d been electrocuted and Fili’s heart did a little flip. He squelched it quickly. Kili needed a friend far more than he needed a lover. He had to suck up what he was feeling, put it in a box and put a lock on it. Now was not the time and if that time never came then that was just another part of life…his life, anyway.

“Come on and sit on the sofa. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“I can get it meself, mate. You don’t have to wait on me.” There was a slight edge to Kili’s voice that Fili ignored.

He chuckled. “I know that, its just that every inch in the kitchen is covered with drying photos and I just thought it would be easier since I know where everything is. I could use some lunch myself. How about hash and eggs and toast? I can do a fryup and throw it on a plate, but that’s about all I can do in the kitchen right now.”

“You sure it’s not too much trouble?” Kili looked doubtful.

“I told you I need to eat. I never did get around to having any breakfast. I have two tins of hash and some eggs, so if you don’t mind having breakfast for lunch we’re good to go.” Fili said cheerfully.

“Ok,” Kili said reluctantly. He didn’t want to admit how much he hurt from one end to the other. His eye was still swollen enough that his vision was blurry on that side. His tongue hurt too. Either he’d bitten it or the bitch had. He moved over to the sofa and sat down gingerly.

Fili went into the kitchen and came out carrying a mug. He held it out to Kili. “Here, try this. My mum always made it for me when I wasn’t feeling too good.”

The Irishman reached out and took it, peering at the contents. Then the scent hit him. “It’s raspberry.” His face took on a look of wonder.

Fili nodded. “Tea with raspberry syrup in it. Very decadent and very good. I had a cup myself a bit ago. Sip on that while I make us some lunch. I hope scrambled eggs are good because I’m shite at any other kind.”

“Scrambled is grand,” Kili replied, taking a sip of the tea. The sweetness and warmth hit his tongue and slid down his throat to make him smile. “This is brilliant. I’d never have thought of it.”

Fili laughed. “Blame my mum, she’s always inventing delicious food. I took up karate when I was twelve to keep from turning into a ball with limbs.”

The mental image made Kili giggle, a totally non-adult male thing to do. “Well it worked.” He had totally not meant to say that and found himself blushing a little.

Fili didn’t seem to notice. He patted his tummy. “It would help tons if I could learn to stand straighter. I always look like I have a bit of a gut.”

Kili just started to disagree with him when Fili spun on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned clutching something in his hand.

“I’m sorry. I should have given you this right off.” He extended his hand and Kili reached out, not knowing what to expect.

When the little locket slid into his palm followed by the chain, he froze. The locket was open and his da looked out at with the same smile he’d always had for his son.

Kili’s hand was shaking. “I couldn’t make meself look. I thought sure it’d be ruint.”

“Maybe your mum was looking over him,” Fili said gently. “If you give it a polish and fix the chain it’ll be good as new.”

He stole a glance upward at Fili, taking in the curve of his lips and the damnable dimples that were far too tempting. He watched Fili as he walked into the kitchen; a man at home in his own skin with a surety of his place in the world; a man who was far too attractive.

Kili desperately didn't want to notice Fili's dimples, or the way his hair fell into curls over his forehead when he raked his fingers through it. It made Kili want to be the one doing the raking.

He shut the thought down hard and fast. He'd had handsome flatmates before and knew that being attracted to them was the most idiotic thing he could do. He'd been burned badly and he had the scars on his heart and body to prove it.

Eric Bardson had been one of the three men Kili had shared a flat with four years ago. Bard was a friend of a friend and quiet enough, so that Kili didn't object when he moved in. He'd paid his share of rent on time and was rarely there. He knew the man was a dealer, they all knew it, but considering what the rest of them did to make the rent, no one objected. The only two rules were; pay on time and don't bring in trouble.

The only trouble Bard brought in was that he was a walking cliché. Tall, dark and handsome, he strode into Kili's life with a sense of self that drew the Irishman like a moth to the flame. He was the older man, mature, self-confident with an easy sex appeal that wound people of both genders around his little finger. It had never occurred to Kili to question why a man like Bard was sharing a run-down flat with two younger, down-on-their-luck sex workers and the bouncer for the bar downstairs.

The thought of Bard made Kili’s stomach clench and he found himself taking several deep breaths like Dwalin taught him. He shoved Bard back into the closet in his mind and slammed the door.

That Fili had stayed home from work and done so much to try to save Kili’s photos was something the Irishman had trouble processing. Sure people did things for you now and again, especially if they wanted something in return, but they were little things. This was pretty feckin’ major.

He couldn’t help wondering what Fili was going to want in return.

 

* * *

 

The eggs and hash were delicious and Kili eagerly cleaned his plate and had seconds. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten for a year. Fili had used raspberry jam on the toast so that it went with the tea (which he refilled twice for Kili.) The second cup had been accompanied by two paracetamol that he gratefully washed down. Even though Kili still felt like he’d been dragged though London behind a car, he was feeling a lot better. If push came to shove all he really wanted back from the flat was the photos. The clothes he’d found were a perk and he feared he’d lost his toy kit forever.

Fili was making a round of the photos, looking at them and replacing the paper kitchen towels they were drying on. Kili got up and followed him stiffly, fascinated by what he was doing.

Fili was only too glad to explain what he’d been doing. “I have to let them dry. I wish I had more fans, but I don’t. That’s why the heat is so high. They need to dry naturally but dryer air helps speed up the process. Once they are dry we can evaluate them and decide which ones you want me to start with.”

Kili was puzzled. “What do you mean, the ones you start with?”

“I’m a graphic designer and a photographer, remember?” Fili was smiling as he continued. “Restoring the damage will take awhile, but nothing here is ruined. I’m actually looking forward to the challenge. I haven’t done restoration like this before and it’s a chance to learn some new skills.”

The Irishman was feeling overwhelmed. “I can pay you for the work.”

Fili continued to replace damp towels with dry ones. “I’m not a restoration professional, I can’t charge you.” He straightened up and looked at Kili. “I mean it. I’m going to have to learn to do this as I go along. Charging wouldn’t be ethical.”

Kili looked dubious as he gently touched the edge of a photo of his mam and gran. “It just doesn’t seem right for you to go to all that work.”

Fili gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s a chance for me to broaden my skillset, as they say. The more I can do, the more marketable I am professionally. I’ll save some before and after shots and list them in my resume. This is an opportunity for me, not an imposition.”

He reached out and laid his hand on Kili’s. “I mean it. You aren’t imposing on me.”

Fili squeezed once and let go. “Why don’t we see what you brought home in the bin bag?” He grabbed two pairs of disposable gloves and a can of air freshener out of the cabinet and headed for the front hall.

The scent that rolled forth out of the bag made them both gag. Air freshener wasn’t going to touch this stench.

“We should have done this before we ate, yeah?” Kili stepped back, desperate for fresh air.

“Yeah,” Fili answered. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He retuned with a small blue jar. Opening it, he dipped his finger in and dabbed a translucent salve under his nose. He handed it to Kili who regarded the jar with deep suspicion.

“It’s Vicks, you rub it on if you have a chest cold, haven’t you ever used it? It’ll also clear your sinuses, or block your nose, whichever.” He chuckled at Kili’s expression. “Try just a little under your nose and you won’t be able to smell the bag, or much of anything else.”

Kili sniffed it hesitantly and then smiled in recognition. “Oh, it’s menthol.” He rubbed a bit under his nose, took a breath, and laughed. “I can’t smell anything now, so I guess I’m good to go.”

Kili had salvaged mostly clothes. The majority of them were soaked with sour milk. There were a few CD cases, also soaked. Kili popped one open and found the disk was still there. Apparently the new tenants didn’t care for his taste in music.

Fili wrinkled his nose at the pile of clothes. “You go wash the CDs in the kitchen sink and I’m going to throw this lot into the wash.”

He wrapped the bin bag around the clothes and gingerly carried them to the washer. He dumped them in, sneakers and all, without bothering to sort colors. Turning the machine on cold Fili set it for a prewash. He’d worry about sorting them into colors for the real wash cycle, which he figured was several rinses away.

When he came back he found Kili drying a CD with the paper towel. He’d thrown away the inserts to the cases, most of which were still intact. Fili counted ten that he’d been able to salvage. “Did you get most of your music back?”

The Irishman shook his head. “Only the stuff they thought was shite. It’s okay though, they didn’t like me mam’s music, so I got that back.” He held up a Clancy Brothers CD. “It has ‘Eileen Aroon’ on it. It were me da’s favorite song partly because it’s me mam’s name.

Fili felt his heart clench. Kili carefully polished the disk, a look of quiet joy on his face. He had his photos and his mum’s music back and that was all that mattered. Before Fili could get too lost in sentimentality, Kili grinned and showed him several CDs by The Dubliners. “She said that, like the Clancys, they are ‘shite stirrers’, but she loved them anyway.”

Fili chuckled at that. He could imagine tiny Eileen Kildare singing along to the rebellious songs of the IRA as she did her housework.

Kili turned his back to Fili as he reached for more kitchen towels and Fili winced as he noted several small blood stains on his T-shirt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m what?” Kili did his best contortion act, trying to see his own back.

“It’s seeping through your shirt,” Fili replied. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re really hurt. You’ve been moving like you’re in pain since you got up. Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll have a look at your back?”

“Naw, you don’t need to do that. I’m fine.” Kili really didn’t want Fili to see what had been done to him.

Fili looked up at him, meeting his eyes evenly. “I’m not going to judge you, Kili. I’m honestly worried that you might infect. You were crawling around a trash bin last night, god only knows what germs you might have come in contact with.”

Kili looked down at his shoes in shame. “I’ll be fine.”

“You already said that and I don’t agree,” Fili said softly. “Humor me, will ya? I know I’m being a mother hen, but you’re hurt and you’d do the same for me, right?”

Kili nodded. He couldn’t imagine being in that position, but he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Fili in pain. Without another word, he turned and went to the loo.

“Turn off the washing machine before you get in the shower, or you’ll be sorry!” Fili called after him.

Fili finished drying the CD covers. All but one had been ruined, but it would be simple enough to copy the cover images and print them for Kili. If only everything could be so easily rectified.

 

 

* * *

 

Kili punched the button and turned off the washer. The loo smelled of sour milk and garbage, but thanks to the Vicks it was barely noticeable. He turned on the shower and stripped slowly, easing out of his clothes.

The T-shirt stuck to his back in several places, burning enough to make him curse when he pulled it free. The bitch had really done a number on him. The thought of the big blond getting off on watching her tear him up made him nauseous. The two of them were the sickest clients he’d ever had. He rolled his shoulders to try to work out the sting and stiffness. He knew it wasn’t going to be good, but he’d made the choice to go for the money. I was his own fault and it could have been worse. A lot worse.

The hot spray from the shower stung his skin, waking up the bruises. When he turned around and it hit his back he cursed again. What he’d thought were scratches had to be gouges. The water burned as it cascaded over his back and he couldn’t even think about washing with soap.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off gingerly and draped the towel around his waist. Walking to the door he paused, resting his head against the frame. He didn’t want to open it. He knew that waiting on the other side was going to be the expectation of payment for rescuing the photos and all the other little “kindnesses” that had been shown. He’d avoided thinking about it because it had been nice to enjoy the moment even though it wasn’t real.

He knew Fili desired him, he could see it in his eyes. He was an intelligent man and would wait until the time was right to claim what he felt he’d earned, of that Kili had no doubt. He was caught once again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape owing people and having them take their payment out on his body.

This was the feeling that made the drugs so seductive. He could find oblivion first by getting high and then the party drugs that made him not care if tomorrow ever came. Finally it was the heroin that took away the past and future, leaving him only the moment when the drug crept its way into his vein and let him drift warm and comfortable, surrounded by a blanket that shielded him from all his loneliness and pain.

Steeling himself, he opened the door and came out into Fili’s bedroom. He crossed to the bed and sat down, reluctant to call out. He didn’t need to; Fili had heard him and popped his head around the corner. “That was fast.”

Kili nodded, not meeting his eyes. It was a good thing he was looking down because the horror of the multiple bruises and scratches on his body showed plainly on Fili’s face. His jaw dropped and he could feel his eyes tear up.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he swallowed and said, “Why don’t you go out into the kitchen and sit down? The light’s better out there and I’ll have more room to move around. I can’t patch you up if you’re sitting on the bed.”

The request took Kili by surprise. He was told to leave the bedroom? He hesitated and Fili passed by him to go into the loo. He waited a moment and Fili came back out with a box of cotton, plasters and a tube of something in his hands.

“Really, go into the kitchen, I can’t see your back if you’re on the bed.” He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll try not to make it hurt any worse that it already does.”

Kili felt unsure, but walked out into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and sat down as Fili followed behind. He was confused as hell. He’d been positive he knew what was going to happen and this wasn’t it.

Fili set everything on one small space he’d cleared on the table and turned to look at Kili. The scratches and bruises nearly broke his heart. It was either cry, or be funny. He chose the latter.

“You look like you got attacked by a drop bear.”

Kili twisted so that he could look at Fili. “What the fuck is a drop bear?”

Fili squeezed some Germolene salve onto a ball of cotton and dabbed it onto a deep scratch on the Irishman’s left shoulder. The anesthetic in it quickly too away the sting and he could see Kili relax as the pain lessened.

“You know how Australia has all kinds of killer animals?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Well, drop bears are carnivorous koalas that are the size of leopards. They drop out of trees onto their prey.”

Kili’s brows furrowed. “Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.”

Fili continued to work on Kili’s back, smoothing the salve over the bruises as well as the cuts as he described drop bear attacks. “I’m serious. They don’t kill nearly as many people as spiders and snakes do, but they mostly get tourists because they don’t know how to protect themselves.”

“Sure and you’re takin’ the mickey,” Kili muttered, shifting slightly as Fili worked on a long scratch.

Fili applied a large plaster to a deep gouge. “Tourists don’t ever listen when you give ‘em advice on how not to die when going tramping in the bush. They won’t put forks on their hats, or learn to talk in an Aussie accent.”

Kili burst out laughing. “I knew you were acting the maggot. Do people believe that shite?”

Fili came around to face him and grinned. “Tourists will believe anything, mate. And I’m done with your back.”

“You are?” Kili peered over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve patched up a lot of dogs and the secret is to distract them. Works for humans too.” He laughed. “Now I need you to stand up because there’s a deep scratch that goes under the towel.”

Kili’s stomach clenched as he stood up. Fili slid onto the chair behind him and tugged at the towel. Kili let go of it and it dropped to the floor causing Fili to suck in a quick breath. Lightly furred and perfectly rounded, the twin globes were at eye-level. Fili blinked, straightened his shoulders, and dabbed salve onto the long scratch that extended down Kili’s lower back to mar the right cheek. There was a bite-mark on the left side that he attended to, as well as a more shallow scratch on the back of his thigh.

Fili started to speak, cleared his throat, and then said, “Put your towel back on and I’ll do your chest, unless you want to do it.”

It took Kili a moment to process the request. He bent and grabbed the towel, feeling as if he’d been given a reprieve. Fili just felt as if the sun had been eclipsed.

They didn’t look at each other as Fili administered to the marks on Kili’s chest and upper arms. The long hair on the Irishman’s chest hid some of the bruises and Fili had to use his fingers to part it to apply the salve. He focused on healing and felt his desire slide back to a safe level. This was neither the time nor the place for sexual feelings. He noted that Kili remained soft, so there was no invitation to have to deal with. It was just one friend helping another.

When he was done, Fili stepped back and said, “You know you need to go to the clinic and get a tetanus shot. Human bites are really dirty.”

Kili nodded. “I have to get tested too. I think they were clean, but you never know. I’m on Truvada, but I’m not going to trust it all the way.”

Fili stopped on his way to put the first aid supplies away. “Want some company? By the time we get out it will be suppertime and I’ll treat us both. I’m tired of my own cooking and there isn’t enough space in the kitchen to make anything anyway.”

Kili’s stomach went into knots. Before he could stop himself he blurted out, “Why are you so fucking nice to me?”

They stood facing each other; Kili’s face a thundercloud of anger, while Fili’s was wide-eyed with surprise.

Fili dumped the supplies on his computer desk and turned to face the Irishman. His look of surprise had changed to one of irritation. His dimples vanished as his face tightened.

“I’m getting damned tired of telling you that I’m your friend. I’m also fucking sick of you questioning every goddamn thing I do.” His blue eyes turned to grey as he glared at Kili. “I understand that a lot of people shit on you. I’m not one of them and I’m pretty fucking tired of getting treated like I’m some sort of monster just waiting to attack you.”

Kili stood quietly, not knowing how to respond.

Fili continued, feeling his frustration trying to take over, making his words sharper than he intended. “I like you, or rather I’m trying to like you. I don’t know anyone here and I hoped to make a friend. I know how I met you, but that’s history. I’d rather have a friend than a bed warmer. I can buy that. I can’t buy a friend…and neither can you.”

The Irishman stood, clutching the towel around his waist until his knuckles were white. He blinked hard, pissed off that he felt like he was going to burst into tears. His stomach was in knots, his chest felt like someone punched him, and in spite of the heat, he was shivering.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Friends are something I’ve not had much luck with.”

“And you don’t trust anyone now,” Fili said, his expression softening.

Kili shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. He was so ashamed of himself. He couldn’t look at Fili; all he could think of was what his mam would say. He was a guest and he’d been rude, but it had been so long since he’d needed company manners, he’d forgotten how they worked.

“Then I won’t ask you to,” Fili replied. “I’m just going to keep on being me and you can take it whatever way you want. Now why don’t you go get dressed so we can go to the clinic and you can buy your own fish and chips.”

Surprised, Kili looked up at him and saw that he was smiling. “Yeah, we can do that.”

He started for his bedroom and stopped to look back over his shoulder. “How about if I buy yours, too?”

“Best offer I’ve had all week,” Fili replied cheerfully. “I want extra chips.”

Kili grinned. “I can do that.”

“Then get some clothes on and let’s get this show on the road.”

Fili watched him until he shut the door. It wouldn’t be today, or tomorrow, but someday Kili would trust him and after him maybe others if decent people came into his life. He sighed and looked at the array of drying photographs covering the counter and tables. His life had certainly taken a left turn in the last week and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing at all. For either of them.


	11. Photographs and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to have to go to be tested for HIV and know you will have to go back to make sure. Fili's company is welcome, but trust is not a currency Kili is comfortable dealing in. He'd feel better with quid pro quo, except that he had nothing to give in return. That was worrisome. But first things first, clinic, food and photos and then think about payback.
> 
> The title is from Jim Croce: [**Photographs And Memories**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nacZxGGciY)

 

 

 _Photographs and memories_  
_All the love you gave to me_  
_Somehow it just can't be true  
_ _It's all I've left of you_

 

 

The clinic seemed to take forever. Waiting with Kili was almost painful. The longer they sat there, the more depressed the Irishman seemed to become. Fili looked around and was glad that private insurance was a job perk. Coming here didn’t look like something he’d want to do and Kili had to do it on a regular basis.

Here no one there gave a shit about what had happened to Kili, he was just another patient to be seen, treated and forgotten about. There might be a comment made later about the bloke who got eaten up by his girlfriend, but only if all other topics were exhausted. The HIV test was given with the same matter-of-fact attitude and Kili was back out to the waiting room slightly before Fili had read the last of the old Radio Times magazines.

Fili stood up and threw it onto the table. “This reminds me why I read. There was shite on TV six months ago and there is shite on today.”

Kili chuckled. “Me mam used to read a lot. I did too when I was younger.”

“Why’d you stop?” Fili asked as they headed for the door.

The Irishman shrugged. “Too busy playing sports, hanging out with me mates and then jobbing after school.”

“Yeah, it gets harder to find the time when you grow up. I miss those long summer days with nothing to do but lay around and read,” Fili replied easily.

Kili didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t really had long summer days with nothing to do. He’d had to help out ever since he could remember, but Mam had always made sure that Sundays were his after early mass. She might work, but she said he needed the day off to “go and be a boy.”

“So, where’s a good fish & chips place? I mean where the chips are greasy and taste like something, not like the fancy places where you pay for the name more than the food.”

“You like greasy food?” Somehow that surprised Kili, what with the salads and other healthy fare Fili always seemed to cook.

Fili burst out laughing. “I ate hash for breakfast, that’s got enough fat in it to choke a horse. This will be my grease day and I’ll pay for it later.”

He gave Kili a cheeky grin. “If you want a second shower best do it right after we get home because, trust me, you won’t want to be in the loo later.”

At first, Kili looked puzzled and then the realization came over him and he snickered. “I think I’m ok for today. Think it will be cleared out by tomorrow?”

“I’ll open a window and…”

He didn’t get to finish as Kili stopped and then turned into the doorway of a pub.

“Come on, I’ve heard enough talk about your arse. Let’s get ourselves around some food. This place ain’t such a much, but if it’s grease you’re after then Bombur’s yer man.”

Kili breezed in and slid into a seat at the bar. An enormous man turned, a grin splitting a wide face that was nearly hidden behind a formidable red beard and moustache.

“Randy, ya skinny paddy cunt, good ta see ya again.”

“Good to be back, ya fat ginger fuck,” Kili replied cheerfully.

“And ya brought company.” The large man winked at Fili. “I swear ya fuckin’ poofters are prettier than the women that come in.”

Kili roared with laughter. “That’s because you straight fucks are so bleedin’ ugly you scare off everything but the skanks.”

“Speak for yourself, ya feckin’ twat!”

That came from behind them and Fili whirled to find himself looking into the merry dark eyes of a man with an astonishing length of mustache.

“Bofur, you manky muckshite!” Kili stepped past him to hug mustache-man. He winced slightly as Bofur hugged him in return.

“You okay, Randy?” he asked, stepped back and looking askance at Fili.

Kili waved it off. “I’m fine. Just had a cray trick’s all. Nothin’ to worry the likes of you. I brought Ritchie in because he said he wants bad food and worse company.”

Bofur laughed. “He doesn’t talk much. Is he a fuckin’ bogtrotting mammyjammer like you?”

“Naw, he’s from New-fucking-Zealand, wherever the fuck that is,” Kili replied cheerfully.

Fili started to respond and then decided this wasn’t the time or place for a geography lesson. He opted to smile instead and wonder what friendly names they might come up with for Kiwis.

Bofur grinned at him, seeming to accept the silence without question. He seemed to have a smile permanently attached. “Well, wherever that is, ya brought him to the right place, ‘cause we got plenty of both. What’ll ya have?”

Kili slid onto the barstool again. “Richie said he needs fish ‘n chips, but what’s Bifur got on special today?”

“Stew. He found a road kill sheep and grabbed a haunch.” The expression on Bofur’s face was serious and Fili didn’t know if he was kidding or not. He was still getting over suddenly being called “Ritchie.”

Kili nodded to Fili. “You’ll not find better Irish stew in the whole of London. If ya want to give yer innards a break, might want to consider a bowl. Comes with soda bread the angels sing about.”

He looked at Fili’s expression and started to giggle. “Jaysus, mate, don’t they take the piss down your way? Since I don’t want to be smelling your arse biscuits tonight, I’m just going to order up some stew for us both. That okay with you?”

It took Fili a moment to process the term “arse biscuits” and then to agree to the stew. Seeing Kili suddenly animated and laughing was such a change from the sad bloke in the clinic that he was a few steps behind on that too. This Kili laughed easily with the worst profanities pouring forth in a wave of cheerful banter.

The Irishman leaned on the bar, a glass of Guinness in one hand, the other assisting in his animated conversation with Bombur and Bofur. They obviously only knew him as Randy the gay sex worker, but that didn’t matter. The two of them couldn’t be friendlier. Bofur was still concerned about Kili’s bruises and cautioned him about picking the wrong sort of client while Bombur fussed at his brother for acting like a mother hen.

Fili also noticed that Kili, by maintaining the persona of Randy, kept them at a distance. Not only that but by giving Fili a fake name he pushed them even further away. Here were good people who would be friends, but he just couldn’t let them in. Fili had the feeling that bad things happened when Kili let people into his life. No wonder he had no faith in anything Fili said.

The Kiwi was trying to figure out a way to wedge his way into the conversation when a strange looking man emerged from the back carrying a tray laden with bowls and bread.

He bellowed something unintelligible and Bofur hastened to grab the tray. “Alright, ya auld sod, I got it, I got it. Now stop yer fuckin’ bitching and come out here and meet Randy’s friend.”

Bofur set the tray down and introduced the cook. “This is Bifur, he’s my cousin. He was in the Gulf War and he don’t talk so clear anymore, but he’s a brilliant cook.”

Fili extended his hand and the big man took it and said something too fast for him to follow that was accompanied by a rapid waving of his hands. Bofur saw Fili’s puzzled expression and laughed.

“He said he’s glad ta meetcha and he thinks you and Randy make a handsome couple.”

Fili laughed. “Glad to meet you, Bifur. But Randy and I are just friends.”

Bifur shook his head in denial, winked at Fili and then reached over and clapped “Randy” on the shoulder in congratulations. He turned abruptly went back out to the kitchen.

Bofur watched him go. “Can’t convince him of anything he doesn’t want to believe. Say what ya like, but I agree with him. If you aren’t a couple, you should be.”

Fili stole a glance at the Irishman, who wasn’t laughing. Kili was studiously inspecting his stew, trying to ignore them all. “No, we’re just flatmates, honest.” He dug into his own stew so he could stop talking.

The food was brilliant and eventually more customers came in so that Bofur and Bombur had to return to work. Fili savored a bite of soda bread smeared with real butter and turned to Kili. “Thanks for bringing me here. I’ve never had anything like this stew.” Kili nodded and continued to eat.

Kili was silent for the remainder of the meal, turning down the offered free dessert of Banoffee pie. Fili gave it such as longing look that Bofur took pity on him and packed up two pieces in a takeaway box. While Kili settled the bill, Fili slipped a fiver under his plate in thanks for the pie and for making Kili laugh.

The tube was crowded with people, at least, most of them were people. Fili wasn’t entirely sure about the bloke who sat across from them wearing a bunny suit when it wasn’t even Easter. He'd thought Kiwis were an odd lot, but they couldn't hope to match Londoners -- not on the best day they ever had.

Kili had eyed the pink rabbit as if checking to make sure he was harmless and then returned his attention to his lap. He studied his jeans as if they held the answers to the creation of the universe. He didn’t look at Fili and hadn’t said anything since they left the pub, not even in response to the thanks for the meal.

The one response he got was a cursory nod when he had slipped a small Cadbury chocolate in Kili’s hand as they walked to the underground. He’d picked it up at work and had quite forgotten about it.

After making several futile attempts at conversation, Fili took to studying his own lap. He found no answers amid the wrinkles and the errant blob of stew complete with a tiny bit of carrot. Wondering how it got there occupied his mind for two stops.

After getting off what was possibly the most uncomfortable ride he could remember, he and Kili walked back to their flat. Kili walked fast, but Fili walked faster, eager to burn off the tension before he would have to buckle down and do some serious photo repair.

While Kili availed himself of the loo, Fili booted up the computer and flipping on his scanner. He set the program to scan at the highest possible resolution and let it process the photo of Kili’s parents. Rightfully, he felt that this would be the most important picture, so he wanted to start with that one. Maybe fixing it would go at least a little way toward helping the black mood that Kili had slipped into.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they were home, Fili turned on the computer and looked at the spread of photos contemplating which one to start with.

"Could ya do this one?" Kili's voice was soft as he pointed to a photo.

Fili saw what he was pointing at and felt his throat tighten enough so that he nodded instead of speaking. The photograph was cracked down the center and the image was faded, showing that it had been in a frame and exposed to sunlight. It hadn't been removed with care and one corner had a jagged tear that extended into the image. It was totally salvageable, but that crack was wide and was going to take some work.

It was one of the most tedious processes Fili had ever attempted. The repair had to be done so carefully; alternated with checking online to make sure he was doing it right. It wasn’t helped by the hovering of one anxious Irishman, who was as nervous as a new father waiting for that first cry.

To say that Kili was concerned was an understatement. His heavy brows were pulled down so far that he looked homicidal. If Fili hadn’t known that expression signified concentration, he would have been more than a little worried. His silence had evaporated making Fili long for the silence of the tube. It wasn't that he talked as much as the fact that he made noises. Sudden intakes of breath were punctuated by equally annoying exhales.

It didn’t help that the photo was set at a high level of magnification so that Kili could see little of the photo except the area that Fili was working on with glacial slowness. He knew nothing of computers and chafed at the idea that Fili could not simply click something and fix the photograph instantly.

Kili hadn't quite grasped the scope of the 'undo" function and he made a little sound every time Fili made a misstep. Out of desperation, Fili put him to work.

There were still photos laying on all available surfaces. They were dry but had to be handled and stored correctly. Fili gave the Irishman a pair of latex gloves, a roll of baking parchment and a pair of scissors. He instructed him to stack the photos into piles putting an appropriately sized piece of parchment between them in case they would stick. 

Kili handled the photos as if they were the crown jewels. Fili smiled as he watched him work. Who would have a guessed that homeless a rent boy would so cherish a collection of old photographs? 

When he was finished, Kili returned to peering over Fili's shoulder. He remembered his father having said, "If you want to keep someone busy, teach them something."

He stood up and smiled. "Here, let me show you how its done, or rather I'm going to let some pros on YouTube do it. Grab the laptop and bring it over to the table."

"I don't know anything much about computers." Kili's expression betrayed how worried he was.

"You don't have to, you already know a lot just from using the internet," Fili said as he waited for the laptop to start. "You won't know the program they are using, but you can see what they do. It's not that hard, you just have be able to follow instructions. Here, sit down and watch."

Fili pulled up the one he was using and Kili leaned forward, watching intently. He asked a few question, but mostly he seemed riveted to the screen, absorbing the techniques that were being shown. Like most people, one video led to another and finally he was watching a demonstration on how to draw using a tablet. Fili smiled to himself and finished the photo.

When he was satisfied that he could improve it no further, Fili printed out a copy onto photo paper and took it over to the Irishman for approval.

“Be careful, the ink’s still wet.”

Kili looked up as Fili slid it in front of the laptop and froze. The colors were brighter and all traces of the crease were gone.

“It’s magic,” Kili finally managed in awe.

“No, just Photoshop.”

“No, really…it’s magic.”

He held the printout carefully, staring at it, the years dropping away as he saw his parents the way they had been. Eileen was positioned in front and she looked up at her husband who, in turn, looked down at her. For that moment, captured for all time, they were the only two people in the world. It was the first time Kili had seen the photo without the crease. He felt his eyes mist and blinked hard to hide the tears.

Fili, seeing that emotion was overwhelming Kili, tactfully chose to return to his computer and begin work on another photograph.

Kili held the newly printed photograph as if it were made of spun glass. He couldn’t stop looking at it. Tears clouded his vision and he knuckled them away, blurring his vision even further. He blinked hard, but refused to close his eyes. Looking at the picture was the only thing that was making it real. If he closed his eyes it would disappear into the past to join his hopes and dreams.

If there were magic in the world, he would sell his soul to go back to when this picture was taken. Mam had said the man came to the neighborhood with his portable studio and offered photographs for a bargain price that was still almost beyond reach.

He remembered her telling him that she had dug into the tiny stash of coins she kept in a bag at the bottom of the flour canister. She had dug through the flour, counted the coins, took the last bit from the household fund and had taken her husband by the hand and gone to see the photographer.

Eileen was the one who posed them and while the photographer fiddled with his camera she looked up at her husband and told him that he was going to be a father. That was when the shutter clicked; forever capturing that moment between them.

A tear slid down Kili’s cheek and then another. He quickly moved the photograph and stole a glance at Fili, who was sitting with his back to the Irishman. It was safe to cry. It was safe to mourn what was forever lost. He could not bring back the past, but he could still look at it and remember when the world was bright with love and promise.

Fili had given him that back. He couldn’t remember a greater gift. He had no idea how he could ever repay it, but he was a Celt and he would find a way.

Taking the photo, he went to his room and set it on the nightstand where he could look at it. Curling up on the bed, he fell asleep, a tiny smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

 


	12. Effexor Follies

Hello everyone,

I just wanted to tell you that I have not abandoned my stories, or the Fili/Kili fandom. I’ve been suffering health problems that we have discovered are directly related to my taking Effexor for depression. I managed to achieve not only side effects, but withdrawal effects at the same time – while still taking the medication! It’s not an accomplishment I’d wish on anyone. 

Effexor worked for me for a couple of years. Due to a PTSD event, my doctor doubled the dose, which was still pretty low at 150mg once a day. This worked great for about 6 months and then I started having a reaction that, unfortunately for me, was hard to separate from my fibromyalgia and from allergies. As a result of my reaction to Effexor, my eyes burned so badly that reading, or evening doing my work was a misery, it was hard to concentrate, never mind writing anything and my physical pain increased dramatically. 

I couldn’t write, couldn’t read, couldn’t think so even using Photoshop Elements was impossible. And participating in Tumblr just made me more depressed since I couldn’t actually DO anything. I was miserable, but it’s never a good idea to take being miserable without trying to get to the source of it and freaking fix it. So I’ve researched Effexor, fibromyalgia, ankylosing spondylitis (a type of arthritis I have) and came to the conclusion that Effexor had to go. You can’t just stop taking it, so I am in the 3rd day of weaning off and I feel a lot better. I’m hoping to be back to normal and back to writing soon.

If you are taking antidepressants or antianxiety medications, be sure to monitor them and their effect on you. Never be afraid to be honest with yourself and your doctor because what worked for you 6 months ago might be working against you today. 

The boys send their love and want you to know that they have a lot more to tell us all. 

In the meantime, I suggest you broaden your horizons by checking out the best fandom has to offer. Have a read about some of the folks you don’t necessarily ship, because there are some amazing stories out there. Check out some of the more unusual offerings that are more like damn good novels than just fanfic.

Personal favories are: [**The Sons of Durin**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/623138) by Kirvinengle. Kivrin is a pro author who has written a powerful retelling of The Hobbit set in modern times. Their mountain has been stolen, they have been branded criminals and environmental terrorists, they have only each other and the determination to reclaim their home from those who stole it. I can honestly say it's one of the most dynamic books I have ever read.

[**Sons of Jerusalem**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1021374) by Seashadows. Not really the Hobbit, but a compelling novel of romance, family ties, and feels that will make you pretty sure that you’re missing out on a lot by not being born into this Jewish family.

[**Romance in Rio**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1093396) by hold_on_a_sex. This is the one AiDean I actually promote. They are both extremely handicapped, but are also top Paralympic athletes. It’s written by an extremely handicapped Paralympic athlete and is sexy, loving and will give you some food for thought.

[**Unintended Consequences**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4810382) and it’s sequel [**Two Volumes of one Book**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5572585) and the sequel to the sequel [**Slices of an Auckland Life**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6469171) by Lakritzwolf, is a magnificent family feels series that follows Anders Johnson as he discovers that he has a young son, his evolution as a man and a parent, and then continues with Russell’s story. It proves that it doesn’t have to be a ship to be a damn good read.

I’m sure you can add to this list and feel free to do so. Because I have been unable to read, I’m way behind but, like you folks, I’m always looking for an interesting well-written story.

Oh and by the way, be sure to check out JK Rowling’s detective series written as Robert Galbraith. The Cormoran Strike novels are excellent.


	13. Too Much of Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much of nothing  
> Can make a man ill at ease  
> One man's temper might rise  
> While another man's temper might freeze  
> In the day of confession  
> We cannot mock a soul  
> Oh, when there's too much of nothing  
> No one has control  
> Bob Dylan
> 
> London is big and unforgiving, there is no room for the timid, or the weak...or those just scraping by. But it takes courage to keep on trying. It takes courage to reach out to someone who is drowning. And it takes courage to accept that outstretched hand. Too much of nothing can turn into something if you give it half a chance.  
>  
> 
> A huge thank you to Kelly (Ceallaig) for the beta reading, the suggestions and, most of all, for all the support. Thank you too, to everyone who has waited patiently (more or less) for an update. I'm working on the next chapter now, so the next one won't be as long a wait.

 

 _Too much of nothing_  
_Can make a man ill at ease_  


 

Fili rolled over and looked at the clock. It was way too early, but he had to pee and his bladder refused to listen when he tried to reason with it.

When he came out of the loo he noticed that the light in the living room was on.

Quietly he opened the door and peered around the corner. Kili was awake and had brewed a pot of coffee. Caffeine beckoning, Fili grabbed his robe and started down the hall. He was about to announce his presence when he spotted Kili. Fili’s mouth snapped shut and he just stopped and stared.

The Irishman was sitting at the big iMac intently watching a video on how to repair a photograph.

Kili was barefoot, wearing jeans and the black tee shirt he’d had on when he showed up at Fili’s door. The memory was so strong that it almost took Fili’s breath away. The feeling of surprise, quickly followed by embarrassment, and then desire shot from his heart to his groin, twisting almost painfully. He couldn’t remember feeling so much so quickly about anyone. And then to find that Kili was homeless and hungry just pushed every button Fili had.

He’d talked with his mum about meeting Kili and asking him to move in, tactfully leaving out the whole escort part. She had listened patiently and then warned him about his need to rescue.

“Remember, he’s not a stray dog, Fili,” she’d cautioned. “People aren’t nearly as grateful as animals. There’s a reason he was homeless and it goes beyond having a bad flatmate.”

He hated to admit that she was right. He did want to save the world. He’d been saving animals since he was three and he’d found out that people stepped on the worms that crawled onto the sidewalk after a rain. After that, taking him anyplace by foot required a lot of time and patience, as he squatted down ever few feet and very carefully and seriously picked up each stray worm and carried it to safety before returning to do the same for the next one.

Kili grudgingly admitted that he wanted to save Kili, or in this case, help him to save himself. He looked over at the brunet whose heavy brows were knit in concentration. In frustration at something on the screen, he reached up and dragged angry fingers through his curls, pulling them onto rather than away from his face.

_My god, he is beautiful._

Fili closed his eyes and leaned against the doorway. He took a deep breath and willed the rush of blood away from his groin. His thoughts were a tangle of emotions, but he knew that at the center, want and need were battling for first place. Forcing himself to be an adult and not a starry-eyed teen, he shoved his libido down and took a deep breath.

Yeah, he was good to go.

Sort of.

Another deep breath and he could talk to Kili, who was so involved in what he was doing that he never noticed that he had an audience. Fili was going to say good morning, but stopped mid-stride and watched intently as Kili switched from the video over to Photoshop, then followed the instructions. He did this twice before Fili had the heart to interrupt him.

“Hey, looks like you are doing great.”

Kili leaped out of the chair as if he'd been goosed. It tottered on two wheels and he whipped out a hand to steady it. "I didn't get into anything! I just wanted to see if I could fix me own snaps."

Fili's hands instinctively went up to show there was no harm done. "I know you didn't. I think it's aces that you want to work on the photos."

"You do?"

Kili was still in a defensive posture, ready to vacate the area if necessary. The look on his face plainly said that he was confused that Fili wasn’t angry with him.

 "Yeah, I do.” Fili smiled encouragingly as he came over and looked at the photograph. "It looks like you're making good progress with the healing tool."

"Really?"

“Really. Here, I’ll show you.”

Fili leaned over and pressed Command Z twice and the last two fixes vanished.

Kili was dismayed. “What did you _do_?”

“It’s called ‘undo’ and it basically just ‘undoes’ your last action, or in this case, the last two. If I press Command Y then I ‘redo’ the change.”

He demonstrated by putting the fix back before taking it away again. “See, all fixed, but I want to show you the progress you’re making. This is what it looked like before – and this is what it looks like now.”

Fili straightened up, grinning like a kid. “You’re getting it. Not everyone does. Keep working on this while I make breakfast. Don’t be shy about asking questions. I’m chuffed that you want to do this for yourself.”

“You are?” Kili was still playing catch-up. He’d expected Fili to be angry that he was mucking about with something that wasn’t his and certainly didn’t think he’d get compliments. “You’re not pissed off I’m on your computer?” The Irishman’s expression was a cross between joy and worry, his heavy brows fairly dancing as if they couldn’t make up their mind which expression to settle on.

“What? No. No, of course not. If I kept anything private on it I’d’ve passworded it. All my personal stuff is on my phone, and that _is_ passworded.” He didn’t mention that he’d moved his personal information off of the computer after he invited Kili to stay. He didn’t want the Irishman to feel as if he wasn’t trusted, but he wasn’t naive enough to take chances, either.

Fili whipped up some scrambled eggs, chopping in a bit of scallion and red capsicum to liven up the taste and add a bit of color. A few rashers of bacon had gone into the oven to bake. He had half a tomato left from making a sandwich for lunch on Friday, so he fried it up as well. For a moment, he considered opening a tin of beans, but a quick check of the cupboard showed they needed to be added to his next grocery list. So it wasn’t going to be an English breakfast, but he supposed Kili wouldn’t object. And if he did, he could bloody well cook for himself the next time.

After making the scrambled eggs there were only two eggs left and they were nearly expired. Might as well use them up. Grabbing the last of the partial loaf of bread, he quickly made French toast. He dusted it with icing sugar and deemed it good to go.

Fili stepped out of the kitchen to find Kili staring so hard at the computer screen that he seemed mesmerized.

“Save what you’ve done and come and eat.”

Kili looked puzzled and Fili laughed. “You know, food. Sustenance. Break…fast...as in eggs and French toast.” He drew the word out causing the Irishman to suddenly snap to attention.

“Press Command S and get in here before it gets cold and all my hard work was for nothing,”

He set the table while Kili washed up in record time. The brunet looked at his plate and his look of puzzlement turned to one of recognition and joy.

“Gypsy toast,” he said with a smile as he cut himself a huge square. “Me mam used to make it. I guess they call it something different in New Zealand.”

He looked around the table. “No syrup?”

Suddenly feeling like a poor host, Fili shook his head. “Sorry, no, I always eat it with strawberry jam.” He made a mental note to add syrup to the grocery list.

Kili nodded solemnly and then spooned some jam onto his French toast. He bit into it hesitantly, then smiled and took another bite, eyes closing in bliss.

“S’good,” It was the last thing he said. He was halfway through his second helping before he came up for air.

The eggs and bacon disappeared nearly as quickly and along with them, most of the fried tomatoes. “You don’t have to keep feedin’ me, you know,” he said after washing the last bite down with a swallow of coffee.

Fili chuckled and shook his head. “But I do have to feed me and I don’t mind making a little more. I always make French toast or pancakes on Saturday mornings, so don’t feel I’m spoiling you. I’m spoiling _me_ – you just happen to be here.”

Kili ducked his head and tucked into the rest of the food on his plate, but there was a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Kili took the last piece of French toast when Fili slid it onto his plate. He tucked it away nearly as quickly as the first and Fili wondered how anyone could eat so much and not weigh a ton. The obvious answer came to him a moment later and he winced as he realized that Kili didn’t often have the chance to eat like this. From the speed that he ate, he might well have had to fight for his food more than once.

He’d been poor…was poor…in a way that Fili couldn’t even begin to imagine. The Kiwi had always had more than enough. What must it be like to always be a little bit hungry, a little bit worried about tomorrow?

When the Irishman was down to sipping on his coffee, Fili looked at him and said, “We need to talk.”

Looking like a child that’s been chastised, Kili put the cup down and folded his hands into his lap, his eyes downcast as if not daring to look at Fili. The Kiwi didn’t know if he wanted to hug him, or smack him. The constant hesitancy both broke his heart and was becoming annoying. Fili was tired of walking on eggshells for fear he’d say or do something that would drive Kili back onto the street.

“I really am sorry I got on the computer without asking.” The apology was spoken so softly that Fili almost missed it.

“No, that’s not what this is about. Honest, you did nothing wrong. I’m really happy you want to learn how to repair your photos.”

Flustered, the Irishman ran his fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as his nerves edged sharper. Kili had a look that was between fight and flight, making Fili painfully aware how important his next words were.

“I know you don’t trust me and I know you don’t think of me as a friend. Maybe with time that will happen, but for right now I just want…no make that need…I _need_ you to stop worrying about every single thing you do.”

Fili sucked in a quick breath; sure he was blowing this to high heaven. “Honest, _I’m_ the one who needs you to stop worrying. I like having you here, but I’d enjoy it a lot more if I wasn’t constantly afraid of saying or doing something wrong – something that will drive you out the door onto the street.”

Kili scrunched his eyes shut and sat rock silent. Fili finished in a rush. “If it’s private, I’ve either locked it up, or I would’ve said something. I expect you to do the same. If I have to go into your room to get some of my equipment I’m sure there wouldn’t be anything private sitting out on the chest of drawers. I won’t snoop, my mum taught me better manners and I know yours did, too.”

That got him at lest a quirk of one corner of Kili’s mouth that wanted to be a smile. Feeling bolder, he continued, “I won’t come in your room without knocking, either.”

Kili huffed, blowing out a hard breath and a lot of the tension he’d been holding along with it. He lifted the cup, realized it was empty, and put it back down. He stared into it rather than meet Fili’s eyes. “I hate it when people paw through me stuff.”

“Don’t we all,” Fili agreed.

He looked square at the brunet and waited until Kili looked up at him. “I just want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, you’re my flatmate and, I hope, maybe getting to be my friend. I enjoy your company and want you to feel at home here, not like you are on borrowed time.”

”I’ve not had many friends.” Kili’s gaze dropped back to the coffee cup and his voice sank to a near-whisper.

Kili looked into Fili’s eyes as if seeking the truth. The Irishman was far more vulnerable than any man his age should be.

Fili was startled into blurting out, “Me either, not even back in Auckland. I’m too shy and people…well…they just never seemed to notice me.” He was embarrassed that he was saying too much and finished in a rush. “You’re a nice bloke, a bro even. I was dead lonely. London’s a big city and here I feel like a bogan from the boonies.”

Kili’s eyebrow went up.

“I mean I don’t fit in. Auckland is big, but nothing like London. You’re the first person I’ve had an actual conversation with. Everyone is too busy going somewhere to want to talk to someone who doesn’t really belong here.”

It was Fili’s turn to look uncomfortable. Kili nodded sympathetically; how well he knew. Dublin was a far cry from the bustle of London where everyone was in their own little bubble of importance. He always thought of them like being in hamster balls, bumping into each other but never really making contact.

Suddenly Fili got up from the table, rummaged around in the fridge for a moment and then set two tubs of ice cream down on the table, pushing the Cadbury Triple Chocolate in front of Kili. Without preamble, Fili pulled off the tops and handed Kili a spoon.

“I realized that the more lonely I was, the more I drank. Then I found out that ice cream helped and decided that I could be lonely and drunk, or lonely and fat. I chose fat. It tastes better”

He dug into the tub and pulled out a sizeable spoonful of Tesco’s Finest Cornish Salted Caramel Ice Cream and popped it into his mouth. Gesturing at the tub of ice cream in front of Kili, he said in all seriousness, ”Dig in, ice cream makes everything better.”

“We just had breakfast,” Kili objected, but only mildly because…well…chocolate ice cream.

“And now we’re having dessert. If you have dessert with other meals, why not breakfast?”

Why not, indeed?

The ice cream did help. It was hard to feel down while chewing a chunk of fudge brownie. The fact that Kili was sitting across from a gorgeous man who seemed determined to be his friend didn’t hurt, either.

The Irishman took another bite and contemplated the texture and taste, letting himself relax and enjoy being absolutely decadent. There was definitely something to be said for ice cream therapy.

Fili ate more than he should have after a breakfast of French toast with jam, heaved a happy sigh and pushed it toward Kili.

“Have some, my manners are horrible when it comes to salted caramel.”

The brunet shook his head. “I’m good. I’m more of a chocolate fan. I warn you, if you give me Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie, all bets are off.”

Fili laughed and Kili couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were as blue as the sky in the photo on the fridge behind him. “I will remember to keep my fingers clear of that when you have a bowl.”

Kili took a bite of ice cream and looked at Fili for a long moment. The smile playing on his lips mirrored in his dark eyes. “I…I’d like if we were friends.” His eyes shifted downward. “I don’t have any – friends that is.”

“That’s the second time in five minutes that you’ve said that and I think you do, but you don’t know it. The blokes at Bombur’s are your friends. Maybe not someone you hang with, but they care about you.” Fili grinned at him. “I don’t imagine they abuse just anyone like that.”

Kili laughed and nodded. “Probably not.”

“They’re good people.”

“Yeah. Yeah the are.” He poked at his ice cream, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

Fili had retrieved the tub and took another bite of ice cream. He paused and then said, “You have to make friends and I guess shy blokes like us just have a harder time of it. I’ve always envied people who can walk into a party and chat up everyone.”

Kili’s brows went up. He’d never been called shy before. He was always the man who could make it or fake it with a total stranger at a moment’s notice.

The bite of ice cream melted on his tongue as he thought about it.

Talking to Fili and being here in this kitchen eating ice cream at breakfast time was the closest he’d come to being himself in years. That cheeky bloke with the on-demand erection and the ability to be who or whatever the client was paying for was Randy, not Kili. He looked up at the blond who was industriously digging a chunk of caramel out of the container. Randy wasn’t real. Kili swallowed and sighed. Like the ice cream, he just melted away at the end of the night.

Abruptly Kili stood up and pushed the ice cream away. He scanned the counter looking for the lid. “I gotta go. There’s some things I gotta do.”

Feeling like he’d fucked up, but not knowing how, Fili took the ice cream to the counter and fished the lids out of the sink. He put both containers back in the freezer and looked over at Kili. “You said something about trying to get some of your things back today. I’d like to go with you.”

“Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Fili shrugged without answering, letting the question hang in the air for the moment. Then he exhaled sharply and said, ”Moral support, for starters.”

He could feel the Irishman’s tension. The room was practically vibrating from it. Kili had eaten his breakfast like a starving man, but now he looked as if he was going to be sick. Fili watched silently as he dug a crumpled cigarette out of his shirt pocket and straightened it with shaking fingers.

He stuck it in his mouth and lit it before he remembered his agreement not to smoke in the flat. Chastened, he looked around for a non-existent ashtray, but Fili stopped him.

“It’s okay. You’ve a right to be nervous. It’s not as if something like this happens every day. I can live with a little smoke.” He tried to smile reassuringly, hoping that it didn’t just look as if he had gas.

“We’ll go together and if they try anything tricky we’ll give ‘em the boot.” Fili essayed a look he hoped was confident.

Instead of being reassured, Kili just looked confused.

“I mean we won’t take their shit,” Fili explained too quickly. “Besides it’s a place I’ve not been to before. You get your boots on, I’ll grab my jacket and my camera, and you can show me the sights.”

Kili took a deep drag, blowing the smoke upward as he tried to contain the pollution to his own space. ”There’s nothing there worth seeing.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Fili bolted to his room as if afraid that Kili would leave without him.

The Irishman was just headed for the loo to dispose of his cigarette, but Fili popped back out of the door, looking like a disheveled jack-in-the-box. Kili smiled a little as the blond appeared undecided whether to put on his jacket or the strap to his camera bag first.

Fili sorted it and blurted, “You’d be surprised at what a photographer finds interesting. Sometimes old buildings have a lot of character. I might be able to use a shot or two at work if we do an urban sort of piece.”

He got his jacket on and fiddled with the camera bag, adjusting the strap. “But mostly I’ve just never been there and I haven’t ridden the train that far.”

Kili gave him an arched look. “It’s just a bloody train, mate.”

“I suppose it is,” Fili replied with a chuckle, “but it beats sitting in my flat for yet another boring Saturday.”

Kili smiled at him. It reached his eyes, making them glint dark honey. He was glad he wasn’t going alone. He was tired of alone. He was tired of there being so much nothing in his life.

But Fili.

Fili was something.

He looked at the blond who was waiting impatiently by the door, camera bag still refusing to cooperate.

Yeah…Fili was really something.


	14. Business as Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Lewisham and one down memory lane, providing at least a brief respite. Reality is dismal, but there is a pearl beyond price to be found as well as another less mentionable object. Still, a bit of what was lost is regained even if hope is not quite within reach just yet. It's business as usual, except that it will never be business as usual ever again...not for Kili. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _As always my unending thanks to Cealllaig for the beta reading and suggestions. I couldn't do it without you._

 

_"Business As Usual"_

_But it's business as usual  
_ _Day after day  
_ _Business as usual  
_ _Just grinding away  
_ _You try to be righteous  
_ _You try to do good  
_ _But business as usual  
_ _Turns your heart into wood_

_~ The Eagles_

 

Fili tried not to look like a tourist, but the camera was a giveaway. At least, Kili consoled himself, the Kiwi wasn't snapping away at every bloody thing they passed. He decided the best option was to nap his way to Lewisham and so was blissfully unaware that he was one of Fili's subjects.

The blond took several shots of Kili once he had relaxed enough to actually fall asleep. He was always so tense that everything about him changed as he relaxed into his nap. The heavy brows smoothed out and so did his features, making him look younger and softer. He’d dragged his hair back into a messy man bun but a couple of curls had escaped to contrast with the scruff that was quickly becoming a short beard. They softened his features so that he looked less guarded against the world.

Not that Fili blamed him. He knew there was one hell of a lot that he didn’t know about Kili and that much of it was painful. It broke his heart that someone so young could have had such a hard life. Kili shifted restlessly and the blond switched his gaze to the window in case he was the one disturbing Kili’s sleep.

Kili was dreaming of a train ride long ago and the shifting was his memory of his excitement. He and Mam were going to the zoo in Dublin. He was still mourning his da and she wanted to give him a day of fun where he didn’t have to think about anything except seeing all the animals.

It had been a wonderful experience. He’d been to the zoo twice since but could never capture that magical day when every animal seemed to exist just for him. He shifted again, a tiny smile nudging the corners of his mouth upward.

Fili looked over just in time to see the quirk of a smile. He had been going to check his email but managed to snap that expression, just before it vanished. He thumbed the shot open and looked at it. A bit out of focus and more than a little tilted, he would always think that it was one of the best photos he’d ever taken. Reluctantly admitting that he was invading Kili’s privacy, he shut off the camera and settled back in his seat, relieved to know the dream had been a pleasant one.

 

* * * * *

 

Lewisham was not the poshest of suburbs or borough as they called it here. The population, as seen through the train window, appeared to be largely non-Caucasian. Except for the architecture, it looked like any one of several of the less fortunate areas outside of Auckland. He guessed that poverty looked the same pretty much everywhere.

The train was slowing down, so he nudged Kili, who woke immediately.

“We here?”

“Yeah, we are. Lead on, McDuff.” Fili replied lurching as he tried to stand up before the train had completely stopped.

“It’s ‘lay on’,” Kili corrected him with just the slightest twinkle in his eyes.

Fili laughed. “And your year in drama school served you well. I’ll not bandy Shakespeare with someone who undoubtedly knows the Bard far better than I do.”

Kili stood up and grinned. “I know way too much Shakespeare.”

Fili followed him off the train. “Did you ever get to perform?”

“I was Puck in me first semester,” Kili replied ruefully. “I sucked balls.”

The Kiwi didn’t know what to say in response. He settled for looking a bit sad. This made Kili burst out laughing.

“I forgot me lines and worse…I forgot me accent. Ever hear Puck talk Clondalkin? Oh jaysus, it was fierce awful.” His brows were drawn down, shading his eyes to nearly black.

Fili’s brows went in the opposite direction. “It must have been a sight.”

Abruptly Kili’s scowl broke and the smile was back. “Got me laid, though. Bloke said, anyone, that bad on stage had to be good in the sack.”

Feeling a face palm coming on, Fili changed the subject. “Are we far from your old flat?”

“It’s the other side of town, mate.” The humor was gone and Fili had to lengthen his strides to keep up with Kili as he headed to the bus stop.

Auckland had areas where you didn’t go at night and Kili’s neighborhood looked amazingly like one of them. Fili heaved a sigh as he looked out of the window of the bus and thought that this whole neighborhood could be lifted up and plopped down in South Auckland if you ignored the difference in building styles. It had a tired, worn look to it that spilled over onto the people passing on the sidewalk.

They got off the bus and Fili paused for a moment to grab a shot of an old hotel with a broken sign that read, “HOT…L.”

Kili laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, that’s where I lived, at the ‘Hot…l.” Rooms by the month, week or hour.”

Fili found himself blushing furiously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Course not, how could you?” Kili strode inside with Fili struggling to keep up. “I told you there was nothing to photograph here. It’s a shithole.” He spat on the sidewalk. “It’s not what you’d call picturesque.”

He was right, it was anything but picturesque inside. The walls were that indeterminate color that comes from dirt and age and it had an old building smell that was mixed rotting wood, mold, and stale piss. Still, it was in relatively decent repair and reasonably clean, if you gave points for slapping a thin coat of paint over the graffiti on the walls. It wouldn’t be grand to live here, but it would be doable if you could ignore the entrance on your way to your flat.

Kili took the steps two at a time and stopped in front of a wooden door that looked to have been recently replaced.

“One of the tenants got high and decided it would be good sport to kick the landlord’s door in. He got a busted head and jail time for the rest of his entertainment,” Kili explained without being asked.

The door opened at his second knock. A woman’s face appeared briefly and the door slammed again. Kili’s face fell and he stepped back, but before he could turn away the door opened again.

To Fili, the landlord looked old and tired, not quite the monster he’d imagined. He looked at them both with no expression and then handed Kili a box that he’d apparently had sitting next to the door. “It was all I could get. Try the charity shops for the rest.”

The door slammed again and Kili looked sadly at the few contents of the box. Fili could see that there was a faded black Tee with the AC/DC logo on it, a couple of VHS movies and a pair of worn trainers. Kili picked the shoes up and then started to laugh. He turned them over and on the sole was written: “fuck” and “you.”

“I guess they didn’t want to give them back.” As observations go, it wasn’t Fili’s most brilliant.

“They didn’t – these aren’t mine. Neither is the movie. Arsehole musta left them behind when he skipped.”

He lifted the T-shirt and his eyebrows shot up.

“The dildo is, though…”

Kili consigned the shoes and the movies to the bin on the way out and quietly wrapped the dildo in the T-shirt. He didn’t look at Fili as he tucked it under his arm and the blond remained wisely silent.

It was, Fili thought, a poignant statement on Kili’s life. He knew he’d never forget the sad, resigned look on Kili’s face. For a moment it had looked as if he was going to cry, but then his expression flattened as he forced the emotions down and locked them away.

After a couple of deep breaths, he started down the street, Fili trailing him at a trot. The closest charity shop was the Salvation Army just down the block. Kili stopped in front of it and pulled a face. That the charity did “God’s work” with a liberal helping of homophobia made him give a wide berth to the shops and the bell-ringers at Christmas time.

Kili hadn’t been in a church since his mother’s funeral and had little truck with religion in any form. She’d been a member of St. Michael’s all of her life, yet the priest had to read her name from the notepad clutched in his hand. The small amount of brass she dropped in the collection box on Sundays didn’t make her worth remembering.

Taking a breath, Kili steeled himself and all but charged into the store, startling the middle-aged woman behind the counter. He ignored her offer of assistance and bolted to the back of the shop with Fili following closely. The Kiwi barely had time to pause to give the shop girl a nod before he heard Kili swearing.

“Feckin’ greedy bastards!” He held up a pair of jeans for Fili to see. “Marked me things up to nearly what they cost new.”

The clerk came over to see what was wrong; her face was a mix of irritation and concern. “What seems to be the difficulty?”

“He was robbed. They took everything he had.” Fili explained quickly.

“They took his clothes?” She was confused and her irritation was growing as Kili continued to swear. “Don’t use that language in here, young man, or I will have you ejected.”

Fili smiled at her, trying to defuse the situation. “Honest, while he was on holiday his flatmate cleaned him out. He came home to nothing. You can imagine how you’d feel. He’s lost all his possessions, clothes and all.”

Her nametag identified her as Emily. She had the look of someone’s grandmother about her, grey hair home-dyed dark blond and pulled back more severely than necessary. But she had laugh lines around her eyes and he judged her to be a soft touch when someone wasn’t taking the Lord’s name in vain, so he added. “They took everything he had left of his mum as well.”

That was the right approach. Her face slid from outrage to sympathy and Fili could see that she wanted to hug Kili, who didn’t look at all huggable at the moment. “You poor wee lamb. Let me help you find your things. Of course, we won’t charge you for them.”

Kili suddenly realized that he was the center of attention and turned to look at her. His curls were hanging down into his eyes. He looked from the woman to Fili and then back to the woman. Eyes that shifted color from honey to ebony were far too shiny.

He was ready for that hug now.

Then he shook it off, turned on his heel and headed to the men’s shirts. He couldn’t let himself be sucked into her pity--it would break him if he did. Grabbing the rack, he held it in his clenched fist for a long moment and then went through the shirts like a tornado.

Within a half an hour he had located a half a dozen shirts, a hoodie, a red jumper, and two more pairs of jeans. Several of the shirts were plaid, including one that was indisputably the ugliest thing Fili had ever seen. Why anyone would make a men’s shirt from mauve and aqua, let alone in a plaid, was beyond him. Even more mind-boggling was that, from the expression on his face, it was obviously one of Kili’s favorites.

There were also a few pairs of black briefs that the clerk refused to look at and one even skimpier in dark purple that made her giggle. “I think he’s a bad boy,” she whispered to Fili with a bit of longing in her eyes.

He wanted to say you have no idea but settled for grinning. “He’s just young and…”

The rest of the sentence was lost to Kili’s whoop that was an odd mix of joy and pain. Both Fili and the clerk hurried over to find him clutching an old photo in an ornate frame. “It’s me gran, but they broke it. The fuckers broke it!”

Fili tugged at the photo and quickly found that Kili wasn’t letting go, so he twisted it to get a better look.

“Someone set something heavy on the glass. It’s crushed but it doesn’t look as if the photo is hurt. See, under the cracks it look fine.

Kili’s look of pain slowly receded. “It’s just the glass?”

The blond smiled reassuringly. “Might be a scratch or two, but you’ll soon set that right, now that you know how to fix your own snaps.”

The smile returned and slid into a grin. Happily, he showed them the faded photo of a young woman who looked remarkably like a female version of Kili. “You can’t see her face, but she’s a beaut. Me mam took after her. I can’t believe I found it and now I can fix it and make her look beautiful again.” He was so excited his words came in a tumble that became harder and harder to understand as his accent deepened.

The photo was black and white. Even with the tones muted by the sun and years, the technology outdated, and the crushed glass that partly obscured photo you could see how beautiful Kili’s gran had been. She would forever be heartbreakingly young with soft dark hair as she leaned against the bicycle. She smiled for the camera – or the person holding the camera. And now she was smiling at her grandson. The beauty of the moment was not lost on either Fili or the clerk.

Emily gently took it from him and examined the frame. “This is silver, the frame I mean, and is worth something.”

“It’s me gran, so it’s yeah, it’s worth something,” Kili countered, his voice tightening.

“I meant, polish it up a bit,” the clerk responded quickly, realizing she’d touched a nerve. “The frame is worthy of her, but it needs a bit of care. You can do it when you replace the glass.”

He relaxed and graced her with a dazzling smile. “Yeah, like me life, it’s been neglected. I’ll set that right, now that I have it back.”

She waived any charges on the items. “That would be like stealing from you twice. We can afford it since they cost us nothing.”

As Fili turned to leave, she touched his shoulder. “Take good care of your young man.”

He felt himself blushing both at her frank look and her approval. “I will, and thank you.”

She waved at them through the window as they left. Fili waved back. Maybe not everyone in the Sally Army was prejudiced.

The mood ride back was considerably lighter than the ride to Lewisham had been. Kili stowed the bags next to his feet, but he held the photo of his gran all the way home. If he took his eyes from it, it might vanish. He sat polishing the frame with the ball of his thumb.

He stole a sideways look at Fili who was looking out of the window. He knew there was nothing of interest out there and that he was being given his privacy. Being given anything was a new experience or at least one he hadn’t enjoyed in so many years he’d forgotten what it felt like. He smoothed his thumb along the flourish at the corner of the frame, letting it soothe him. There was still a little voice at the back of his mind that he tried unsuccessfully to silence. He didn’t have days like this with gypsy toast and ice cream and getting things back. He just didn’t.

There was always a catch.

He stole another glance at Fili who was still giving him his privacy. Blond waves spilled onto his forehead. Eyes the color of the summer sky in Dublin shaded to silver as they passed under a bridge. The dimples were always there whether he was smiling or not and only the small imperfection on his left cheek kept his face from being perfect.

These were not thoughts that Kili wanted to be thinking.

He had never felt pulled in so many directions at once. Everything in him whispered to take his things and flee. If you keep moving they can’t get you. But he didn’t know who “they” were anymore. All of the “they” were gone out of his life. No one who had known him in Lewisham knew where he lived now and probably wouldn’t give a shit if they had.

He glanced over at the Sally Army bags that were the only things that tied him to this place. He’d bin them the minute he got back, then Lewisham and everyone in it would be history.

It was weird to realize that he didn’t belong there anymore. When he’d walked up to his old flat he had already separated himself from it mentally. It was almost like walking into a strange place that felt oddly familiar, but totally wrong at the same time. He’d shaken off the thought, but it came creeping back to nudge at the edge of his mind.

He couldn’t get away fast enough. Lunch had no taste, even though he’d eaten at the chippy many times before and the food was passable. It was like being in a waking dream, but the farther from Lewisham he got the more the feeling faded. In its place crept the smallest feeling of happiness. He could feel the tension he’d been holding start to trickle away.

He wanted to look over at Fili, but couldn’t make himself do it. This felt too much like a bubble that could burst. He had to keep the moment to himself, even if the moment was the entire train ride home.

Home.

He dared to think it.

And almost as soon as it crossed his mind, he shoved it into a dark room and slammed the bolt shut. Guys like him didn’t have a home. Thinking that way was only going to get him hurt. Again.

Tightening his grip on the silver frame, he held his breath for a long moment before letting it out. He needed a smoke and he needed a hug and he needed this day to end.

 

 

* * * * * *

 

 

After a bit of an argument, Kili allowed Fili to carry one of the Salvation Army bags back to the flat – the one without the still-wrapped dildo but held the other two close as if terrified to lose his clothes again. He had a death grip on his grandmother’s photograph. That was one thing he wasn’t letting go no matter what. He originally swung into a long stride that Fili found impossible to keep up with, but he slowed down when he suddenly realized the Kiwi was nearly a half a block behind.

Back at the flat, he was at the computer before Fili had even locked the door. While he waited for it to boot up he gently pried open the tarnished frame. Slipping the photo onto the palm of his hand, he held it as if it were spun glass that would shatter into dust at a breath.

And then he sat down and opened Photoshop.

Smiling at Kili’s haste to get the photo repaired, Fili just took the Sally Army bags into the loo. He removed the dildo and left it wrapped in the shirt. That was one item he wasn’t about to touch. He put the clothes in the washing basket for tomorrow’s wash. Right now all he wanted was a nap. He didn’t realize how stressful the day had been until it was over. Just being near Kili was like being too close to a reactor dangerously close to hitting peak power. He all but hummed with the amount of tension he was carrying. Fili half expected there to be a glowing circle in the center of his chest like Iron Man.

It was to be expected, he guessed, as the day had been way past stressful. He had expected a confrontation with the landlord and knew that Kili had as well. That it didn’t happen did little to relieve the tension.

He had barely been able to talk the Irishman into stopping by the chippy for lunch. In spite of being hungry, they had both only picked at their meal. Nerves were really bad for appetites.

His appetite having returned with a vengeance, Fili was running through a mental inventory of what he could fix for dinner. He came out to the living room and stopped when he saw that Kili was lining up the photo of his grandmother on the scanner.

Leaning against the door Fili watched him, an odd sense of fulfillment in his chest. This was the way life was meant to be – shared with someone who you liked, someone who gave purpose to the day.

…Someone who made you smile…

 

* * * * *

 

Fili helped to gently remove the photo from the frame, keeping it well away from the cracked glass. They were both heartily relieved to see that the photo itself had sustained no damage beyond that of time itself. Fili watched patiently as Kili carefully positioned it on the glass and clicked the Scan button. Set to high resolution, the scan would take a bit of time and he found that he couldn’t sit still and wait for it. Kili needed a smoke too badly. Grabbing his jacket, he headed out the door and took the steps two at a time.

Now the sun was setting the air had taken on a chill that made Kili zip his jacket and pull the collar up. Soon the old leather jacket was going to be inadequate and he’d have to buy a winter coat.

The thought made him uneasy for some reason, which caused him to fumble when he went to light his cigarette. He didn’t want to acquire more things…more possessions. Having barely more than the clothes on his back was comforting somehow; giving him the feeling that no one could take what he didn’t have.

He took a long drag and blew the smoke out slowly, watching it curl upward in the still air. He hated smoking and loved it at the same time. It calmed his nerves, which always seemed to be jangled.

He was so tired of feeling as if something was going to happen. When something did happen it was almost an anticlimax because it was so anticipated. The wind picked up a little, whirling the smoke away from him and sending a chill down his spine. Something was always going to happen, of that he could be sure.

However, he wasn’t sure what to make of the something that happened to have blue eyes and dimples. Fili was a something he could have never anticipated.

Kili was drawn to him, wanted to be with him…wanted to make love with him. Real love, the stupid soppy kind you read about in those silly romances. He wanted to trust, to hope and to dream about there being a real tomorrow – not just another day when you wake up and realize you are still alive.

He threw the stub of his cigarette down and ground it out with his heel.

Might as well wish for wings so he could fly up to Heaven.

  

* * * * *

 

Dinner was delivery pizza because Fili finally admitted he was too tired to cook and the pantry showed another trip to Tesco was in order. Kili grumped about Fili saying he’d pay for it until he got online and found a buy one get one-half off coupon. After a brief and nearly heated debate, they split the cost and the tip.

Choosing the toppings had been easier and Kili took a break from Photoshop to scarf down nearly half a pizza. Fili watched him eat and shook his head. If he ate like that he’d be the size of a barge, but Kili needed to put on a few more kilos; something Fili was certain that would never be said about him.

It took a quarter of a large pizza and two beers before Fili felt himself finally letting go of the day’s tension. He was about to ask Kili if he’d like to watch a movie when he realized the Irishman was no longer in the room. In fact, the computer had been shut down.

Puzzled, Fili turned on the television and was half watching The Musketeers when Kili came into the room. He was dressed in black jeans and his red T-shirt. He was obviously going out and at this hour, it meant only one thing. Fili was just going to ask him if his back was healed enough, but Kili pointed to the screen and asked, “Aramis or D'Artagnan?”

Fili blinked at him for a moment before he understood the question. He shook his head and replied. “Athos and Porthos.”

“Why?”

The blond shrugged. “I like interesting, I guess, and they’re gorgeous.”

Kili spun on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned he was munching yet another slice of pizza. He looked at the screen for a long moment.

“They both have scars.”

Surprised by the observation, Fili had to think about it for a minute. “Yeah, I guess they do. I didn’t really notice. I like Athos’ eyes and Porthos’ hair, and they both have great smiles.”

Kili pondered that for a moment as he finished chewing the pizza. “I think you just want them to be happy.”

“I guess I do,” Fili replied, unsure what to say. “Everyone deserves to be happy.”

Kili just shook his head and reached into the closet for his jacket. “I’ll be back late. Don’t worry, he’s an old client so I’ll be safe.”

Fili nodded and let out a little sigh. “Leave your phone on.”

Ignoring him, Kili shrugged into the jacket, zipper hissing as he yanked it up. “You’re a dreamer and you’re gonna get hurt.”

Fili looked up at him for a long moment unsure what to say.

Kili started toward the door and then paused, giving Fili a sad little smile.

“Not every story has a happy ending, Fili.” His voice was soft, his expression even softer, as if he was telling a hard truth to a child.

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.


	15. Bless The Broken Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Kili to still his mind and listen to his heart. 
> 
>  
> 
> A HUGE thank you to Ceallaig for the suggestions and the beta reading. You're awesome!
> 
> ...and I have a major glitch in this that no one has called me on. I'm going to leave it and see how many people notice. ;)
> 
> The glitch is that in the last chapter Kili ate half a pizza, yet here he arrives starving, having dashed out without eating. I thought about fixing it but I like the way Edwards pampers him a bit so I'm leaving it in. :)

 

 

 **Bless The Broken Road  
** Rascal Flatts

 _Every long lost dream led me to where you are_  
_Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars_  
_Pointing me on my way into your loving arms_  
_This much I know is true_  
_That God blessed the broken road  
_ _That led me straight to you_

Kili hurled himself down the steps, eager to get out of the flat. Damn those blue eyes! Double damn his stupid faith that everything would be okay! Why the fuck couldn’t Fili just be a normal bloke and piss him off with every third sentence?

He paused and lit a cigarette, swearing as the first third of it escaped the paper and fluttered to the pavement. Rolling your own might be cheaper but it only worked well if you had one of those fancy rolling machines. His hand-rolled jobs invariably fell apart when he was nervous.

He didn’t have any reason to be nervous. None at all.

Flicking a few stray flakes of tobacco off the front of his jacket, he took a seat on the top step to wait for his ride. He had to admit that it had been a good day. He didn’t know why he felt so stressed – or maybe that was why he felt so fecking tight. He’d hoped for more from both the shop and his landlord, but it was probably a minor miracle that he’d gotten anything back, let alone the photo of his gran.

She had been so young in that snap. It wasn’t even her bike but she’d pretended for a minute that it was and the lad who was hoping to be her boyfriend took her picture. As it turned out, that boy took more than her picture. Three years later, he’d taken her hand in marriage. A year after that Eileen had come along and then no more children, but they’d been happy. Until his grandfather caught the influenza and then his gran the cancer a few short years later.

Not every story has a happy ending.

He ground out the butt of the dying cigarette with his heel and looked up at the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars but he knew they were there. He tucked his hands into his pockets for warmth. There was no point in looking for stars that he couldn’t see. He used to wish on them when he was too young to know better. He felt foolish at the thought. If wishes came true his grandparents would still be alive and so would his mam and da.

The chill was really settling in and Kili regretted having dashed out of the door too early. He could have at least grabbed a sandwich and felt the pinch in his belly that chided him for being in such a hurry. His nerves could be such a pain in the arse sometimes. Dwalin had called him twitchy and he supposed he was. He had too much energy and no place to burn it off. On one hand, he could eat what he pleased. On the other, there was no meat on his rear and his jeans gave little protection against the cold stone of the step.

The car pulled up just as his teeth began to chatter. The driver ignored him as usual and as usual, Kili gave him a death glare as he opened the back door for himself and slid in. He caught the momentary glimpse of distaste on the driver’s face before it froze back into professional stone.

Fuck him and everyone like him; he had no idea who Kili was or the road he’d traveled before invading the Rolls and sullying the fine leather seats. He might not approve of a rent boy, but at least said rent boy wasn’t at some rich man’s beck and call at all hours. He got to choose with whom he went and what he did. It wasn’t much, but he latched onto the fact that he was no man’s servant and leaned back into the plush seat to savor the warmth.

 

* * * * * *

 

Chelsea was just a shade over a quarter of an hour from Abington Square. Kili was just starting to warm up when the car pulled up to the curb and stopped. As always, the Irishman looked up at a house that bordered on being a mansion and wondered what the fuck he was doing here.

Unaccompanied, he climbed the steps and rang the bell. As always Edwards answered the door and let him in. And, as always, Edwards greeted him warmly, a welcoming twinkle in his brown eyes.

“May I take your coat, sir?”

Kili handed him the old leather jacket and Edwards took it as if it were made of cashmere. He took a step toward the sitting room and then paused. “You are chilled, sir, and may I inquire if you have eaten?”

“I didn’t have time.” It sounded less stupid than ‘I got in too big a hurry to get away from someone’.

Edwards nodded as if a rent boy arriving cold and hungry was the most natural thing in the world. “Follow me, sir.”

Kili followed and found himself in a spacious well-appointed guest room. Edwards opened the door to the bath. His expression didn’t change, but Kili caught a hint of a smile in his eyes. The butler always seemed oddly pleased to see him. “Please avail yourself of a hot shower. When you are finished there will be refreshments waiting.”

The shower was more than satisfying. It was a glass box with showerheads strategically arranged to spray his entire body. He put his hands on the wall and leaned forward, letting the hot water warm him. If he ever got rich a shower like this was going to be a top priority. The feeling was past decadent and well into sinful.

When he finished toweling off and blowing his hair dry, Kili emerged from the bath to find a thick white robe was laid out on the bed. He put it on, marveling at the plush of the fabric and turned his attention to the tray sitting on the table next to the bed. He lifted the silver dome to reveal a thick slice of homemade bread, spread with brown mustard and topped with thin sliced Danish ham and some sort of creamy cheese that melted in his mouth. The beer to wash it down was brown and nutty with a slight kick that helped the remaining tension drain way.

He let himself fall backward on the bed, reveling in the sensation. What would it be like to have so much money that you could have anything you wanted and certainly anything you needed? Looking at the ornate scrollwork on the ceiling, he indulged in a brief fantasy involving butlers, chauffeurs, and mountains of Swiss chocolate ice cream.

Kili was trying to design the perfect sundae when Edwards tapped lightly on the door. His mental culinary aspirations interrupted, he sat up just as the butler discreetly peered around the door.

Seeing the empty plate, Edwards nodded, a rather pleased look on his face. “Was the meal to your satisfaction, sir?”

Kili grinned at him. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Edwards. It was perfection and you are a magician to have produced that masterpiece on a moment’s notice.”

Edwards allowed himself a moment to enjoy the compliment as well as the Irishman’s over-the-top delivery. Mr. Killian was one of the more amusing guests and certainly to be preferred over stuffy family members and one incredibly pompous solicitor.

Edwards inclined his head to acknowledge the compliment, and then he turned toward the door. “Sir Greyhaim will see you now.”

Kili followed him to the master bedroom, paused for a moment and then went in.

“My dear boy, it is so good to see you again.” The deep voice that had held thousands mesmerized on the screen and stage, rolled over him like a hug.

Sir Gandalf Greyhaim, ever the one for grand gestures, reclined in the middle of a bed large enough to hold a cotillion. A dozen pillows supported him and the soft crème décor lit by two silver candelabras accented the burgundy of his robe and turned his long gray hair into spun silver. The effect was that of a decadent god come down from Olympus to mix with the mortals.

The old man loved drama and he always brought out the actor in Kili who knew his role by heart. It never varied and neither of them ever tired of it.

Stepping forward into the pool of candlelight, the Irishman slowly unfastened the belt on his robe. He slid it down, timed to his steps so that his skin was revealed and then covered again and again. By the time he stood next to the bed, his shoulders and chest were bare but he still held the front closed, only a trickle of dark belly hair peeking from the soft white fabric.

He paused dramatically.

“Do you like what you see?” His voice was a low purr, his eyes dark and intent on the man reclining on the bed.

“You grow more beautiful every time I see you, Killian.” He looked up, blue eyes shaded, a slight pout on his face. “Would you deny an old man a glimpse of paradise?

“I would not,” Kili responded. “I would deny you nothing. You have but to say the word and all that you behold shall be yours.”

“You are more beautiful than the sun.” The words were theatrical but spoken with a tone that rang with truth.

Kili smiled and lowered his eyes. “I am not the sun, but your humble servant come to warm you with love and companionship.”

He walked to the side of the bed and stood quietly while Gandalf reached out and took the folds of the robe from his hand. When he released the fabric, the robe slid away to puddle softly at Kili’s feet.

The old man looked up at him with such a look of admiration that Kili felt himself blushing. He saw Gandalf smiling at him and then giving the bed next to him a gentle pat of invitation.

Kili turned and sat, sliding over toward the center of the bed. A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped. “Killian, what on earth happened to you?”

He had forgotten the marks on his back now that they no longer pained him. He twisted, trying to hide them, but Gandalf was not to be denied. His firm hand pulled the Kili around so that his back was fully exposed.

Gandalf's rage made his voice quaver, the theatrical replaced by fury. “Who hurt you?”

Kili shrugged. “Rough trade. It’s past and they paid well.” He struggled to keep his voice even and his tone neutral. It was over and done and he really did not want to talk about it.

“Did you consent to such a thing?” Gandalf’s eyes bore into him, the azure turned to darkest sapphire. He was beyond rage and Kili could feel his hand shaking as one finger traced the longest of the lines.

Kili hung his head in shame. “They looked dodgy, but I needed the brass, so I went with them, but I never agreed to the molly they slipped in me drink.”

“You poor boy.” Gandalf’s face mirrored his sorrow at seeing Kili’s skin marred. “No wonder you didn’t return my phone call. Come here and talk to me. Tell me what happened. I must know who did this to you.”

He held out his arms and Kili slid into them, cuddling into the old man as if Gandalf was his grandfather. The old man was a safe haven and the world was always a better place while he was within the walls of Gandalf’s home.

Kili was reticent about sharing what he’d gone through, but Gandalf’s gentleness allowed him to open up and slowly tell what he remembered of the night. He ended in tears, accepting both the silk handkerchief and the hug that pulled him tight and safe.

“I have heard of them,” Gandalf whispered. “They are pure evil and won’t be bothering you or anyone again.” Kili heaved a sigh and relaxed a little. Gandalf knew people who knew people and it was guaranteed that the platinum monster and his consort were going to be in for a very bad time.

The thought that they would be “encouraged” to act, if not decently, at least less savagely, comforted Kili. He snuggled closer, pressing into the body that held him, lips skimming the warm skin revealed by the neckline of the silk robe.

Gandalf heaved a sigh and moved away slightly. “The theatre is over for the evening. Reality has come knocking and we need to address it.”

Kili shook his head. “Tonight I need you.” He looked up, whiskey-bright eyes darkened by the flickering shadows from the candles. “I feel like I’m a person when I’m with you. I feel like I matter.”

Gandalf laughed merrily. “My boy, of course, you matter. You’re one of the few people in my life who doesn’t want something, or isn’t just waiting for me to die. But sex isn't what you need -- it's a friend. I have so few in my life now, so let me be yours.”

Kili rose up on his elbow, but Gandalf waved away his protests. “I know what my life has come to, sweet lad. I have you and I have Edwards. I also have a pretty little grand-niece whom I don’t see nearly often enough. If only you were straight, I’d have introduced you two long ago. She is as fair as you are dark and is cheeky as the day is long. You would have made pretty babies.” He heaved a sigh and chuckled. “But it was not to be…

“You need to find someone and get out of this life. You’re rubbish at it.” He laughed at Kili’s expression. “You try to act as if it does not matter, but you are as transparent as a lace curtain. You have a kind heart that was never made to sell itself. You must find someone worthy of you to give it to. Only then will you be free of the demons inside.”

Frowning Kili inquired, “Demons?”

Gandalf reached out and lifted Kili’s arm. The needle tracks had faded but the scars remained. “The demons who made you do this to yourself. You were never an addict. You were a young man trying to escape his pain; that is why you gave it up so easily. Now you have to find a way to escape this life and find out who you are meant to be.”

“I don’t know how,” Kili muttered, confused by the turn of conversation.

“I think you do. I also think you are afraid to try because you’ve not had the best luck, or made the best choices. But you’re a smart lad and you’ve learned from your mistakes.”

Gandalf shifted position, tucking a pillow under Kili’s head so that he could talk with him more easily. “I wasn’t born in the theatre, you know.” He smiled gently and reached out to Kili smooth back an errant curl.

“I was born George Gray in Stockton-on-Tees.” He paused and laughed. “It’s in the North East and no one has ever heard of it. I was named after a great-uncle in hopes he would put us in his will.”

Gandalf laughed so hard it took him a moment to catch his breath. “Let’s say that didn’t work out so well. My father was a shopkeeper and my mum a schoolteacher – all very respectable until they had a queer for a son. I may not have been the only one in town, but I was certainly the only one who got caught at it.”

“If you got caught, wouldn’t there have been someone else?” Kili asked.

“There’s the rub – I forced him. He was on his knees in front of me, but I forced him. He did some penance or other but I came close to being arrested and embarrassing my family. My father was friends with the Chief Inspector who did him the favor of not arresting me if I were to leave town. As I’d been disowned on the spot, it wasn’t a hard choice for my parents to make. At seventeen I was left with the pittance I’d saved, the clothes on my back and the few my mum stuffed into the Gladstone from the attic. Because I was her only child she took pity on me and put in a parkin, a sort of gingerbread cake.”

He paused for a moment and mused, “I still loathe gingerbread.”

“Anyway, I had enough for train fare to London, but being left with only a few pence I found that I needed to avail myself of the same profession that you had to take up.”

“Fuck…” Kili whispered in disbelief.

“Yes, eventually…and all manner of other things as well. As one of my mates put it ‘if ya wanna eat – ya gotta eat.’ It’s crude, but accurate.” Gandalf’s lips quirked into a tiny humorless smile. “One does what one must. But there is nothing writ that states that once on your knees you have to stay there.

“At length I made the acquaintance of an apprentice costumer at the Globe Theater and through him, I met the head costumer. I was beautiful in those days and because I was an inquisitive, literate chap I’d read a good bit of Shakespeare. One day when I was modeling a costume for Oberon that was being altered, I was feeling puckish and during a wee break delivered Oberon’s soliloquy from Act 2, Scene 1.

 _“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,_  
_Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,_  
_Quite_ over-canopied _with luscious woodbine,_  
_There sleeps Titania_ sometime _of the night,_  
_Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;_  
_And there the snake throws her_ enamell’d _skin,_  
_Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:”_

 “I was quite the over-actor, but the producer was backstage and apparently, even at that point, my voice carried quite well. He came charging in, saw me and let’s just say that I no longer had to earn my bread and butter on my knees.”

“So he was gay,” Kili said, fascinated by the story.

“No. No, he wasn’t, but more importantly, he didn’t care that I was. He was more interested in who I was than what I was. He saw things in me that I had never dreamed of.” Gandalf chuckled. “He told me that I belonged treading the boards – not kneeling on them.”

The old man looked over at Kili. “And you’re wondering what this egotistical trip down memory lane has to do with you.”

Kili started to speak, thought the better of it and shrugged. He had no idea what to think at this point, let alone say.

“It has everything, my dear Killian,” his deep voice was reassuring, his expression even more so. “I was afraid of everything in those days. How could I be an actor when I felt I was scarcely human? I was afraid I’d muck it up and be thrown back into the alley where I thought I belonged. And then I met Patrick…

“He was a rising star in those days, quite beyond someone like me with the mud of the alley still on my knees. Why he looked my way, I will never understand. But look he did and then a second time and suddenly I found myself in his dressing room sipping Earl Grey, eating imported biscuits and wondering when I was to drop to the floor.

“That time never came.

“Instead of pushing me down, he lifted me up. He too saw something in me that was beyond my imagining. He said he’d fallen in love with me. He didn’t know my past and didn’t care about it. All that mattered was the future. Our future.”

Gandalf had to stop to take a long breath and Kili handed him the handkerchief. He composed himself and reached over to the bedside table to lift an ornate silver frame. In the photo, a younger Gandalf was leaning wistfully on the shoulder of a tatty but distinguished gentleman in a bowler hat. It was plain that they belonged together.

“This was taken when we were doing 'Waiting for Godot,’ our last play together. We were together for sixty-three years.” He smiled whimsically. “That’s a hell of a run for any production.”

Kili didn’t know what to say. “You must miss him something fierce.”

“Every moment of every day.” Gandalf wiped away a stray tear and then smiled with real warmth and humor. “But I have so many memories to keep me company and I will soon be with him again.”

He turned to Kili. “If I had run when I first wanted to. If I hadn’t dared to think I could be more than a whore – I wouldn’t have had the life I’ve led. I earned it, but I did it by believing in myself and trusting someone else to believe in me.

“That’s what I charge you with – to find someone who believes in you. When you do, you must do everything within your power to believe in yourself.”

Kili looked shattered. “I…I can’t.”

“You can!” Gandalf’s voice was thunderous in the confines of the bedroom.

Kili drew back, one hand raised as if for protection. Gandalf settled back onto the pillows, his expression softening as he whispered. “You can’t live your life being afraid. I know that terrible things have happened to you; far beyond those you have shared with me. But that is just it – they happened _to_ you. They were not something you chose. You can’t be responsible for the misfortunes of fate but you can be responsible for how you choose to face them and the decisions you make.”

Gentle fingers stroked Kili’s cheek. “You fear it’s just the ravings of a barmy old man.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m not in my dotage yet. You have to trust me that you will meet someone and when you do, you have to believe, just a little, that you can be worthy of him.”

“But you loved someone and lost him.” Kili’s voice was scarcely a whisper. He wanted to curl up and not have to listen anymore. He didn’t want to have to think, or feel, or try to believe.

Gandalf stroked his shoulder, feeling the chill that was creeping over Kili’s skin. “We had more than six decades together. Should I have walked away because, at some point, he might die? Should I have remained a…a…rent boy, so that I would never have to face loss?”

Kili remained silent. He was awash in emotions. He had no idea that one of the greatest living Shakespearian actors had started life on his knees. He was having difficulty with the concept that the elegant man lying next to him was ever a rent boy. That this man saw something special in him was equally confusing.

“You’re chilled,” Gandalf said as he ran his hand over Kili’s shoulder.

In response, Kili reached out and sought to bring Gandalf closer, but found himself blocked. “Tonight we talk. I find I’m not up to anything more, but I’ve always been able to converse. Patrick used to say that I would be talking for days after I’m dead.”

Gandalf, slid out of bed, picked up the phone next to the bed and rang Edwards. “Coffee, please, with those biscuits that you made. And bring up a shirt for Mr. Killian along with his clothes.”

He threw the covers back and slipped his robe off to reveal cream silk pyjamas. Smiling, he slid into bed and patted the mattress, inviting a very confused Kili to join him.

They were scarcely settled before Edwards appeared with Kili’s clothes and a neatly folded T-shirt. There was a twinkle in his eye as he set the clothes next to Kili on the bed and said, “I shall return shortly with the coffee, sir.”

Gandalf smiled at him and nodded. “Take an extra minute, if you please.”

Kili leaned forward and picked up the black T-shirt. It had _No Man's Land & Waiting for Godot_ emblazoned on it in red. The back boasted the phrase “ _Two Brits, two legends, two knights_.”

“Put it on,” Gandalf urged. “ I didn’t know that I had any left, but Edwards unearthed it last week and I admit that I’ve been eager to give it to you. Call it ego, if you like, but I thought you’d look splendid in it. Lord knows enough punters have worn it and I thought it was deserving of a better home than that.”

“I’m honored,” Kili said brightly as he held the shirt up for size. It was a fit and he was dying to put it on.

“Well, don’t bandy about, slip it on and your briefs as well. As much as I hate to cover perfection, on this night we shall abandon Cupid and seek out Psyche.”

Kili had the shirt on and paused with his briefs half way up. “Who?”

“Indulge an old man who at least is not quoting Shakespeare at you. Psyche is the goddess of the soul and mind.” His blue eyes were twinkling. “And Cupid is more than a bare-arsed little babe with wings and a bow. But I will leave the Greek mythology lesson for another time. Just tuck in here with me and warm up while we wait for Edwards to return.”

Kili hauled up his briefs and slid into bed. “I know a good bit of Irish mythology, but I never got around to the Greeks.”

Gandalf chuckled. “It’s just as well. They could never be as heroic as Lugh or the Tuatha de Danann. They were a testy lot, mostly concerned with fucking each other and random mortals.”

Edwards appeared, his entrance perfectly times as always. He carefully placed a silver tray laden with two stoneware mugs that looked completely out of place, a silver creamer, a sugar bowl, a plate of biscuits, and a bottle of Jameson Gold Reserve.

Kili looked at the biscuits with unconcealed delight. He knew Toll House cookies when he saw them. Without ceremony, he scarfed one, biting down with a small moan of pleasure. Chucking at the expression on Kili’s face, Gandalf scored one for himself and chewed happily as he doctored the coffee for them both.

“Three spoons of sugar for you, is it?” he asked Kili, who was working on his second cookie.

“Four, and cream, please.” Kili was always embarrassed by how much sugar he liked in his coffee or tea, but it was undrinkable without it.

“However do you stay so thin?” There was awe in the question and no answer from Kili who had no idea where the calories went. Everyone told him that he’d get fat when he got older, so he was going to take full advantage of his metabolism for as long as it lasted. To demonstrate that thought, he picked up another cookie. It was still warm and he thought that if he died now his life would have been fulfilled.

Gandalf’s laughter was immediate. “Oh my dear boy, how I do envy you.”

He added a finger of the Jameson’s to Kili’s mug and two for his own – just to chase away the chill.

They sat comfortably propped up by pillows, mugs of hot Irish coffee to warm and bolster them, and a plate of cookies that they soon reduced to crumbs. Gandalf set the cookie plate on the tray and looked at it wistfully. He would pay for his indulgence tomorrow, but for tonight he was in bed next to a young man whom he truly liked, his body singing with chocolate and fine whiskey, so culinary indiscretions were to be savored before they were to be regretted.

Gandalf sipped his coffee and looked over at a much warmer Kili. “You have been uncharacteristically quiet ever since you arrived. I know you have something on your mind. You’re balls at hiding anything.”

The crass term made Kili giggle and he heaved a huge sigh, shoulders reaching halfway to his ears. “I don’t want to bring me troubles here. This is one of the few places I never have to fret.”

“Yes, be that as it may, but they came along with you this time and because I’m nosey, but more because you need a shoulder to lean on, I’m going harass you relentlessly until you talk to me.” Gandalf’s expression was infinitely kind, but the steel in his eyes told Kili that he was in for a session and he might as well fess up.

After two stumbling starts and a coughing fit from his coffee going down the wrong way, Kili managed to get out the story of his exile into the street, meeting Fili and the insanity of the following days.

Gandalf was incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me that within the space of a fortnight you’ve lost everything and become homeless, met a rather brilliant young man, nearly gotten yourself killed, and now you are here sipping Irish coffee in bed with a man old enough to be your great-grandfather? It’s no wonder you’re fucked up.”

Kili tried to smile, but it ended rather badly when a huge tear rolled down his left cheek. Gandalf thumbed it away and cupped his face gently. “If I were a believer in God, or even in fate, I’d tell you that this was all meant to be. But I’m just a old man who’s lived a very long time and seen far too much. I can tell you without a doubt, that if there is a deity or a goddess pulling the strings of your fate they have brought you to this point for a reason.

“If this young man is half as nice as you tell me that he is, then it’s time to trust and to get up off your knees. I dared to do it for Patrick and you must dare for Fili.”

“I’m afraid,” Kili whispered. “I don’t know who to trust, or even if I should trust, him or anyone. Everyone I trusted fucked me over.”

“At your age, I said the same thing.” Gandalf reached for the photograph next to the bed. “I’m nothing but a whore, why would he care a fig for me? He’ll use me and throw me out into the gutter.”

His voice was so bitter that Kili cringed back, nearly spilling the remainder of his coffee.

“My head said all of that and worse. I cursed him and his beautiful face and position in the theatre. I threw his wealth and power onto the floor and spat on it!

“And when I was done listening to my head, reason prevailed and I finally listened to my heart.” He pulled the frame close to his chest so hard that the ornate frame dimpled into his skin.

“My heart saw everything that my head was blinded to. My heart reached out and when I pulled him into my arms I knew that I would never let him go. And I never have.”

Gandalf looked at Kili, his eyes shimmering with tears. “We had sixty-three years and he’s been dead nearly ten more, but I’ve never let him go nor has he ever let me go. I feel him with me always. He’s here telling me to tell you to take a chance on your young man. With the grace of God you will have sixty-three years together and if not, you will cherish what you did have. Whatever time you have together will be sweeter than the ashes of remaining alone and staying safe. Love is the only thing that lasts forever.”

Kili sat there looking nearly broken, but there were no tears. He’d told Fili that there were no happy endings, but what if he was wrong? What if he had the wrong definition of a happy ending? Gandalf was still happy and felt loved even after he’d lost his Patrick. Kili sharing his bed was merely because even someone like Gandalf Greyhame needed a hug sometimes. Kili was a respite – not a replacement.

He looked over at Gandalf and traced one finger across the image of the two men in the photograph. “Would you mind terribly if I didn’t stay the night?”

“My boy, I would be crushed if you did. Mr. Edwards will have envelope for you. There will be a bit more in it and I do not want to hear a word about it. You need some breathing room so that you can make a proper decision about your life. While I would love to put you in my will, with my avaricious family you would be dead of old age before you received a penny.”

He swung out of bed and sat on the edge. “I’m seriously considering willing the entire lot to a home for indigent drag queens.”

Kili stopped pulling on his pants. “Is there such a thing?”

“Fucked if I know, but it would be fun to start one just so that Patrick and I can laugh our arses off about it.”

He stood up and gathered Kili into his arms. “You must promise to let me know how this turns out. I have a thing for stories with happy endings.”

“So do I,” Kili whispered. “So do I.”

 


	16. A Matter of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust. It means different things to different people. It is difficult to establish, easily broken, and hellishly hard to do for those who have seen it lying shattered at their feet. For Kili it is nearly an unknown concept, but now that's it's established just the tiniest grip on him it's growing in his soul...and in his heart.

 

 

 

**A Matter of Trust**

(Billy Joel)

 _But you're going to face a moment of truth_  
_It's hard when you're always afraid_  
_You just recover when another belief is betrayed_  
_So break my heart if you must_  
_It's a matter of trust_

 

Fili watched Kili storm out of the door. He had the feeling that he should have been able to do something to stop him or mitigate the anger in his words, but he had no idea how. After a while, he found that he was staring blankly at the television. _The Musketeers_ ended without him being aware of it and he had no idea what came on after it. Finally, he turned the TV off with the remote, plunging the living area into silence.

He had thought that the day had gone brilliantly, or at least decently. In retrospect, Kili had been so stressed that if anyone had said “boo” to him he would have had a coronary. Fili hadn’t seen it at the time; he’d been too caught up in the “fun” of helping Kili get some of his possessions back without considering how demeaning the entire day was for the Irishman.

Fili rocked forward, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose to ease his tension. Getting the fucking dildo back was the capper. Fili had found it funny at the time, but the flush of embarrassment on Kili’s face had killed his laugh before it was born. The brunet’s expression as he pitched it into the bin next to the building was so dark that Fili found something on the street to occupy his interest to give Kili at least a shred of privacy.

“I’ve been kidding myself that I know how he feels.” Fili’s voice was harsh in the silence of the darkened room. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

He got up and poured himself two fingers of scotch. Knocking it back in one go, he coughed and took a deep breath. He wanted more. He wanted enough so that he could forget the dildo and Kili’s expression. He wanted enough so that he could stop thinking about a man who had survived by selling his body to anyone willing to pay the price. He wanted enough so that he could stop wanting that body and the man who owned it.

Jesus fuck, but he was a miserable idiot. What did he know about happy endings when he’d seen so few himself? His father had shot through, leaving Mum to pick up the pieces and try to support them in a city where her entire pay wouldn’t have bought them a room in a slum. If it wasn’t for his dad’s family feeling bad and inviting them in, he had no idea what would have happened. That they were in the will and Dad was not caused quite a scene at the solicitor’s. Inheriting the wee house and enough for his mum to get her nurse’s training had been all that had saved them, and she’d stood up to his dad when he tried to get a piece of it.

Kili was right…not every story has a happy ending. Sometimes the best you could hope for was to survive.

It wasn’t late, but suddenly Fili found that he was exhausted. The shower eased some of his tension and let him drift into a restless sleep punctuated by dreams that he couldn’t remember, but that that left him wakeful and uneasy.

When he could sleep no more, Fili rolled over in bed and peered at the clock. It was nearly midnight. He’d gone to bed far too early, loaded with far too much whiskey. He rolled over, fluffed his pillow again, and finally gave it up as a bad job. He couldn’t sleep. Kili was out there; doing things that Fili couldn’t bring himself to think about. He sat up and rested his hands on his knees. It was times like these that he missed his dog the most. He needed someone to talk to who could listen without judgment. Dogs were great at that -- humans, not so much.

The loo beckoned and then the kitchen because it was either whiskey or ice cream. For a moment he considered both because both is good. But his stomach quailed at the thought of a salted caramel/whiskey float and he settled for one scoop before tucking the carton back in the freezer. At this rate, he was going to look like a beach ball. Yeah, that would be attractive.

He let the first spoonful melt on his tongue, trying to pick out the individual flavors amid the complexity exploding on his taste buds. It wasn't working but it was distracting. His thoughts kept drifting back to Kili. The man was almost equally huggable and smackable. Every time Fili thought that he might be ready to let his guard down even just a little, he slammed it right back up.

It was hard to blame Kili when he physically bore the markings of abuse. He'd stopped letting Fili tend to his back, but the blond knew that it hadn't completely healed. The needle tracks came and went depending if Kili had smeared a bit of concealer over them. He'd thought it odd at first, but then cringed that he was so dense. Of course, those were something Kili would want to cover up. Who wants a reminder of dark times every time they look at their own arms?

Fili took another bite of ice cream and then jerked around as the front door opened.

Kili came through the door and stopped, looking around in surprise that the lights were on.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Fili called to him.

Kili came in, one eyebrow lifting when he noticed that Fili was only wearing his briefs and was eating ice cream. Of all the things he expected when coming through the door, neither of these had been on the list.

Having Kili stare at him was a little unsettling. “You’re…uh…home early.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Kili had no idea what to say, or what to do. Or worse, where to look. Fili’s compact build and wealth of curly dark gold chest hair was pushing every button Kili had. He quickly averted his eyes, praying his jeans hid his reaction to his flatmate.

“Did it go okay, I mean your gig, or whatever you call it?” Fili hadn’t noticed and Kili breathed a small sigh of relief.

“’Trick’ is the usual term and it went fine. I’m okay.” Kili wanted to say he was better than okay, but his brain joined his eyes and the three of them had no idea what to do with themselves. Lapsing into silence seemed the wisest choice.

The silence quickly became awkward. “Want some ice cream?’’

“Is that your answer to everything?” Kili wasn’t trying to be humorous but it came out that way and he couldn’t help the smile that followed it.

Fili smiled back, his eyes an impossible mix of blue and green. And damn those dimples!

“I guess it is. It was a choice between this or whiskey and I don’t really want to turn into a drunk like my father.” It wasn’t said with sadness, it was just a fact and he was sharing it. He’d gotten over his father’s failings years ago.

Kili’s eyes widened in surprise. He covered it by turning and opening the freezer. There was still some chocolate in there. Since it had been purchased before he arrived, he had to assume that Fili liked it as well and yet it was obviously left for him. It was a small unspoken kindness, one of many he’d found since meeting the Kiwi.

He pulled out a bowl and spoon and scooped out a chunk, trying to leave half for the next time. When he sat down, he glanced at Fili out of the corner of his eye. The blond was concentrating on his ice cream but had looked up when Kili sat. Their eyes met and Fili smiled…just a little. Just enough to send Kili’s heart racing.

Flustered, Kili tried to concentrate on his ice cream but Gandalf’s words came to mind. “Instead of pushing me down, he lifted me up.”

Of course, the "he" in question was sitting there in nothing but his tighty-whities eating ice cream instead of being dressed in a velvet jacket sipping Earl Grey hot and without an imported biscuit in sight. The kitchen wasn’t a theatre dressing room and he wasn’t Gandalf…

But back then; Gandalf wasn’t Gandalf either. He was still George, a country boy with the muck of the alley on his knees, if not his soul. He wasn’t any better than Kili except that he wasn’t so afraid to take a chance.

Kili sneaked a glance at Fili and was immediately at war with his emotions. He wanted to do what Gandalf suggested, but what if Fili just laughed? What if…

“Why did you come home so early, Kili?” The question hung in the air making him unable to take a breath to respond.

There was no place to hide. He was sitting across from the one person in the world he didn’t want to lie to. What was he going to do?

Kili looked up directly into questioning eyes the color of the Dublin Sea.

He dropped his spoon, wincing as it clattered to the table and then the floor, leaving behind a smear of chocolate. He started to get up for a towel, but a hand on his wrist stayed him.

“Leave it.” Fili’s voice was quiet but firm. “Something’s the matter. What happened?

His voice quavered and his eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, did someone hurt you?”

Kili shook his head, the feel of Fili’s hand on his wrist burning into his skin. “I’m fine.” His voice was dusty and came out in a whisper. “No one hurt me.”

“Then what? I can see you’re upset.”

The kitchen telescoped in until there was nothing except Fili and the grip on his wrist. Kili felt his chest tighten as the feeling of suddenly being trapped slammed into him.

He had to get away.

Had to.

Get away!

“Kili, please talk to me.”

Suddenly the shadows at the corners of his vision popped like a bubble and the weight lifted from his chest.

Kili took a deep breath. He was safe.

_Safe._

Not a new concept, but one he’d forgotten.

Safe _had blue eyes that shaded to green on a whim._

Safe _had golden hair that fought to curl._

Safe _had dimples and a perfect smile._

Safe _was holding him and wouldn’t let him drown._

Kili looked up, the kitchen and Fili coming back into focus as his panic attack faded.

Fili released Kili’s arm, but the Irishman reached out and took Fili’s hand. The squeeze was brief but Fili felt it all the way to his soul. “I’m okay. I had a moment, but it’s passed.”

Kili let go and straightened up. “I’ve no need to be afraid of you.”

Fili released his wrist with a look of infinite sorrow. “No,” he whispered, “you don’t.”

“It’s me own head. I get trapped in it sometimes and it bites me in me arse.” He smiled a little, lips tipping up slightly and eyes warming from porter to ale.

“The only thing that happened tonight was that I’ve been given a lot to think about and I’m not so used to thinking.” He brows furrowed as he chided himself. “I’ve spent far too much of me time trying not to think.” A quick glance down at the inside of his arm punctuated his meaning.

“Just as long as you’re okay,” Fili’s voice was reassuring but his expression was a mix of concern and confusion.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Kili’s expression had lightened and suddenly he was all big eyes and curls.

He held out his hand.

“Friends?”

Fili reached out and shook his hand firmly.

“Friends.”

The ice cream was cleaned up and polished off with little conversation, but the mood was so light that, in retrospect, Fili thought that he could have bounced happily around the ceiling from it. He didn’t have a damned clue what had happened between them, but something did. If Kili had a tail it would have wagged for the first time. It was definitely a step in the right direction.

 

* * * * *

 

It was Sunday and Fili pried himself out of bed with the thought of pancakes and maybe some bacon or sausage. Either one would work to comfort his inner carnivore, something that he was only occasionally ashamed of being.

He took a quick shower and got dressed; no need to repeat being caught in his skivvies a second time. That had been far more uncomfortable than he wanted to remember. For some reason, he’d felt like a naughty kid sneaking out in the dead of night in his undies for ice cream. At the memory, he felt a tug at his groin and grimaced. His desire for Kili was something that he was still rather unsuccessful in dealing with. It was just one more thing that made him feel like a teen with a case of raging hormones.

Fili mixed the batter and sprayed the pan with non-stick before going to wake Kili.

The knock at the door didn’t bring any response. Nor did the second, or the call, first softly and then louder.

Finally, feeling slightly intrusive, Fili peeked in and found the bed empty, but neatly made. It was way past eight, but there was no place to go on a chilly Sunday morning. No place that Fili knew of, anyway.

Feeling deflated, he went back into the kitchen, put the sausage back in the fridge, and made himself a single pancake. After last night, or was it early this morning, he’d looked forward to making breakfast and maybe building on what they’d started last night.

Had he read Kili wrong? Was the Irishman just in a good mood because his “trick” had gone well? The speed at which Kili had eased himself out of a burgeoning panic attack had been hopeful. Fili had worked with enough abused dogs to recognize the beginning signs of trust. What he didn’t understand was where in the hell Kili had gone and why?

His appetite gone, he poked at the remains of his pancake, finally giving it up as a bad job. Consigning it to the bin, he went into the living room and logged onto his laptop. Maybe Mum had an idea or two.

 

* * * * *

 

The bus wasn’t crowded this early on Sunday, or maybe not on Sunday at all. Kili had no way of knowing since he hadn’t been out at this hour that he could remember.

Even though the heating on the bus did its best to fight back the chill, every time the bloody doors opened it swooped in again and seemed to target the skinny Irishman in his too-thin jacket. He pulled the collar up and tucked his hands in his pockets.

Tomorrow was going to be a shopping trip. He tried not to get too excited about it but it was hard not to think about being able to actually buy a winter coat that wasn’t from a charity shop. He’d get a new hoodie and maybe a jumper too. He coveted the Aran Isle sweaters, but they were just too pricey. Whatever he chose, it would be warm, and would fit, and wouldn’t have belonged to anyone else. And a vape kit thingie – he had to have one of those so he could smoke in the house. He knew himself too well to think that he could stop smoking easily and he refused to smoke around Fili. It wasn’t polite.

Thinking about shopping relaxed him and Kili closed his eyes and remembered his surprise when he’d opened the envelope that Edwards had given him on the way out. It wasn’t until he was in the back of the Rolls that he’d opened it and nearly dropped it in his surprise.

His charge for the night was usually £250 and it was usual for Gandalf to double that amount. He had only stayed a short time and had expected to find much less. After all, it was a business arrangement, no matter how personal the conversation had been.

Opening the envelope, the twinkle he’d seen in Edward’s eyes was explained. There, to Kili’s unending astonishment, were five £100 notes…and a cheque for another £4500. He had startled himself by bursting into tears at the sight and had barely managed to contain his emotions. He had the feeling that if the chauffeur found out how much the gutter rat in the back seat had been paid he would have found himself summarily ejected from the car.

When he could breathe again, he’d phoned Gandalf. He didn’t know what to expect when Edwards answered the phone, but it certainly wasn’t the sound of laughter.

Edwards handed the phone almost immediately over to Gandalf, who was still chuckling as he listened to Kili’s babble of protest.

“My dear boy, I am Sir Gandalf Greyhame and I do exactly as I please. And, it pleases me to be able to do this for you. Let us say that I am paying a favor forward. It is a piddling amount that the vultures who call themselves my relatives will never miss and it will buy you some breathing space.”

Kili started to argue but Gandalf simply ignored his protestations and talked over the top of him. “It doesn’t come without strings. You are to deposit it in your account. Well, start one if you must, but put it away and use it wisely. Get a job, a real job and for heaven’s sake, brush off your knees and ask your young man out. I expect a report back when all of this has happened. Good night, Killian.”

The disconnect had been final and Kili was left sitting in the dark, staring at the screen of his phone. It had taken the remainder of the ride home for him to stop shaking and put it away.

He apparently had no choice about accepting the cheque. It was so much when he hadn’t even earned the £500. Well, to be truthful, he hadn’t really earned much of anything during his last few visits with Gandalf. The man was very old and, although Kili didn’t want to admit it, appeared to be increasingly fragile. Pushing the thought aside, he chose to dwell on the bills and the astounding cheque now residing in the little lock-box in his room and on his destination.

 

* * * * *

 

Mum would probably still be up, but Fili didn’t think he could put what he wanted to say into spoken words, so he opened his email and started to type.

When he got done, he realized he’d basically written a love letter to Kili. Rather than hitting the “Send button,” he deleted it and started over, with a little more common sense and a lot less heat.

 

* * * * *

 

St Stanislaus was red brick and modern. Not at all like the gray stone of the church of his childhood. It was as posh-looking as the neighborhood that surrounded it.

Intimidated, Kili paused in the doorway. He was too early for mass, but the doors were open for those who had to work or attend to business. Whatever their purpose, they were welcome to enter.

Kili made it as far as the last row of pews before he froze in place. The interior was grand, the dark oak polished to a high shine, gold embellishments gleaming and an imposing and oddly stylized gold crucifix hung over the alter. It was unlike anything he knew to the point of being alien.

He stopped and started to turn to leave when he ran directly into someone. It was like hitting a soft mountain.

Kili looked up into a handsome bearded face with gentle blue eyes. “Mass isn’t until ten and confession is on Saturday, but you are welcome to light a candle and stay if you like.”

Kili had been taken aback, but the kindness in the priest’s voice and manner reassured him. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

The Irishman walked to the bank of votive candles and stood contemplating them. After a long minute, he made himself take a match, ignite it from one of the burning candles and carefully set his alight. He chose one in the middle of the row, far apart from any of the others that burned. He didn’t know why, but it seemed right.

He stood quietly looking at the tiny flame flicker in the air currents around it. Flame has its own dance and, to Kili’s eyes, this one looked oddly happy. That gave him the courage to speak.

His whisper was barely audible with his head bowed, but it carried as far as was needed.

“Mam, I’ve gotten into a lot of bad things and done things that I know you’re ashamed of. I got lost and I’m trying to find my way back. I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can. I hope you know how much I love you and how much I miss you.

“I know you wouldn’t like me being gay, but that’s what I am and I can’t change. I know because I tried. I met someone. He’s fierce wonderful and I know you’d like him. He rescues dogs, well he did back home in New Zealand. He let me stay with him when I had no place to go, so maybe he rescued me.”

Kili pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “I dunno. I don’t feel rescued. I feel like I’m drowning and don’t know how to swim. I know I haven’t talked to you in so long but I thought, bein’ that you’re me mam, you might be up for a listen.”

He started to walk away and stopped. “I love you, mam.”

Tears misted his eyes and he barely made it to the back, where he collapsed in an empty pew. He had no tissues or hanky and dragged the back of his sleeve across his eyes, digging a light scratch on his cheek with one of the rivets.

He felt someone next to him and started to move, but before he could do more than tense, a cloth handkerchief was pressed into his hand. The presence next to him as silent as he wiped his eyes and noisily blew his nose.

When he’d composed himself a bit, he dared to look over and found that it was the same priest who had greeted him when he came in. He made a motion to give the soiled hanky back, thought the better of it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Anything you care to talk about? I have time.”

Kili kept his eyes downcast and shook his head. The offer was more than tempting, but what could Kili say to this priest? Nothing good, he was certain. He’d be better off just keeping his mouth shut.

The priest was persistent. “You look like a man with a heavy weight on his shoulders.” He pointed to the crucifix. “He can help carry some of it.”

“Don’t believe in God,” Kili mumbled, wishing the floor would rise up and swallow him.

“It doesn’t matter. He believes in you. You came here for a reason.” The priest’s voice was still gentle, but it had that presence his father’s always had, the one he had trouble resisting.

“Came to talk to me mam.”

The priest smiled gently and laid a hand on Kili’s arm. In it was a rosary made from polished wood beads. Kili recognized them from when he was a child. They were olive wood.

“Take these,” the priest urged. “Mary will intervene for you and help you talk to your mother.”

Without thinking, Kili reached up and took it, the cool smoothness of the beads slipping between his fingers.

_"His branches shall spread, and His beauty shall be as the olive tree."_

Kili could hear his grandfather’s voice, but instead of anything Biblical, his mind showed him a vision of Fili, perfectly proportioned and golden. He blushed hotly at the incongruity of the thought and sought to give them back.

The priest blocked his hand. “Keep them. You are troubled and need them far worse than I do. You don’t have to say the Rosary, just let them help connect you to your mother.”

Kili looked up beseechingly, torn between shoving the beads back into the priest’s hand and bolting for the door and opening his heart and saying far too much.

He settled for a silent nod, beads clutched tightly in his hand.

The priest stood and started to leave, then paused. “My name is Thorin. I’m here most days. When you feel able to talk, I assure you that I will be more than able to listen without judgment.”

Kili stared at the floor until he was gone and then, one by one, he whispered the Stations of the Cross.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this flight of fancy. Remember that all writers live for kudos and comments. Consider them your way of paying for the stories that you get to read for free here. Coming from the days of expensive fanzines I'm still in awe of the amazing quantity and corresponding quality of the writing here. As fans, we've never had this privilege to read so much for so little before. It's mesmerizing, isn't it?
> 
> As always, I welcome criticism as well as compliments. If you don't know what you are doing wrong, you can't grow as a writer. :)
> 
> My Tumblr is [**Drakkhammerwrites**](http://drakkhammerwrites.tumblr.com/) although I find precious little time to post anything on writing there and you will find much Aidan, Dean, Fili, Kili, Richard, Thorin and various other lovely people as well as critters, because who can live without critters?


End file.
